


Traveller's Tales

by Bethann, Minniemoggie



Series: Legendary Friendship [9]
Category: Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Action/Adventure, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-09
Updated: 2012-10-15
Packaged: 2017-11-15 23:13:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bethann/pseuds/Bethann, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minniemoggie/pseuds/Minniemoggie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Legolas and Gimli travel to Aglarond for a wedding with Gimli's family.  On the way interesting tales are told</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

A slight breeze through the treetops sends the bright leaves dancing, and makes the shadows on the ground at my feet look as if it too is moving in time with the leaves as the sun filters through the canopy and joins in the revelry.

Birds high in the trees sing and small creatures move from branch to branch, while on the forest floor larger creatures step lightly through the underbrush. It is as if all of nature is enjoying this bright summer morning with me, and why should they not? Each dawn can now be greeted with a smile, in the knowledge that the evil, which once tainted these woods, is being systematically erased. Already there are areas of the forest where elves and men can walk in safety, where the forest animals no longer hide in fear, and where my beloved trees grow tall and stately once more now that they are recovered from the taint that was spread by Sauron and his hated minions.

I half close my eyes and look across the sunlight glade as brightly coloured butterflies flit from flower to flower it is a perfect day and made all the more so because of the company I am travelling with. A faint smile crosses my lips. Whoever would have believed that the son of Thranduil, king of the Wood would have befriended and been befriended by a dwarf. Yet such are the times we live in. Not only have Gimli and I become friends we have become more than that, we are family.

A disparate family in the eyes of many no doubt but one that our friends and families have come to accept and appreciate, my Adar even going so far as to commend me to Gimli’s care when I travel beyond the borders of Eryn Lasgalen as I am doing now. I ease my back against the bole of a giant beech tree and stretch my arms above my head, allowing the warmth of the sun on my face to bathe me in its renewing light.

All is quiet behind me in the camp, another night spent in peace another day of travelling ahead of us. Soon we will leave the elf path at the Forest Gate and depart my father’s realm and make our way south beside the River Longflood, following its path as we make our way past The Carrock to the Old Ford and on along the Anduin to Rohan. It is a journey Gimli and I have made several times since the end of the war. Accompanying each other from Ithilien, Gondor or Rohan, north to my Ada’s home and beyond to Erebor and then back south again as I begin to lay plans to set up a colony of elves in Ithilien and Gimli prepares to move permanently to his new lordship of Aglarond in the wonderful Glittering Caves.

I spent the winter in Eryn Lasgalen, and had intended to travel south with Gimli as soon as the roads became passable after the winter snows, but he sent word that his journey would have to be delayed until early summer.

He gave no reason for the delay but when he arrived at the stronghold some few weeks ago it soon became clear as to why he had been unable to travel in the spring. Our patrols spotted Gimli and his party as they crossed the Long Mashes and picked their way along the river path and into the wood of Green Leaves.

The patrol reported that there were several dwarves beside Gimli and that they also had with them a string of pack ponies and two covered carts.

 

When I heard this I thought I knew the reason for the delay my friend had asked for. Because travelling with carts and wagons is best done when the roads have dried enough to take their weight without too much effort, else the whole journey becomes a nightmare of hauling wagons and beasts through mud and rain not a pleasant way to travel if it can be avoided.

I assumed the dwarves accompanying Gimli would be those who had agreed to move to Aglarond with him. I could not have been more wrong for as the cavalcade pulled into the stable yard I realized it was not dwarven warriors or miners but Gimli’s family who were travelling with him.

Lord Gloin rode a sturdy pony at his son’s side and behind them driving the two wagons I was stunned to find Lady Vonild, Gimli’s sister Mistress Dorbryn, and her young son Greirr.

Gimli said later I stood with my mouth gaping like a fool, but I maintain that this was not true; I was merely taken by surprise for dwarven womenfolk rarely travel and almost never mix with other races. Dwarven women are held in high esteem by their families for fewer female dwarves are born than male. And although I know that they can be intrepid fighters in defense of their homes and families it has been many yeni since they were last seen above ground.

Yet here they were both grinning at me and looking very pleased with themselves at my reaction to their arrival.

When Lord Gloin gave the traditional greeting as he stepped down from his pony I could only manage a strangled ‘urk!’ in response.

I could not have been more amazed and I could see Gimli thought my stupefaction highly amusing. Fortunately the household were more adept at covering their surprise than I was and soon had rooms made up and our unexpected guests made welcome. My Adar of course seemed unfazed by the arrival on his doorstep of several dwarves, one of which he had imprisoned many years before while they were journeying with Bilbo Baggins.

I found out later that, Ada and Lord Gloin had fought together in the Battle under the Trees and had come to see that their distrust of each other and of each other’s race was another evil to be laid at the door of Sauron and his henchmen. They had spread the seeds of hatred and misunderstanding across the northern kingdoms just as they had in Gondor and Rohan turning race against race, in the hope of splintering their strength. Thankfully, the desire of elves, dwarves, and men, for peace had overborne this attempt to turn against each other and they had banded together as they had once done before at the Battle of the Five Armies and defeated the evil that tainted their souls and their lands.

Gimli’s family spent a week as my father’s guests and were warmly welcomed by the majority of those in the stronghold and it was during this time that I learned exactly why Lady Vonild and Mistress Dorbryn were making this long journey south.

Dorbryn’s first husband had been a miner and had been killed in a cave in while the caverns in Erebor were being excavated. After several years of widowhood she had, as was the way amongst the dwarven race begun to look about her for another husband. As the daughter of Lord Gloin and Lady Vonild she was a highly desirable prize for any dwarf vying for her favours but like her brother Dorbryn was of an independent mind. Dorbryn had refused several offers for her hand before she had met and fallen in love with one of the dwarves who worked in the forges under the mountain making fine jewellery.

Her affection was returned by Thorûr, but while he was a fine young dwarf, his family connections were by no means on a par with Dorbryn’s and he had considered it unlikely in the extreme that his advances would be welcomed by Lady Vonild or Lord Gloin. So, he had chosen to begin a new life away from Erebor putting his skills to use in Gimli’s new home in Aglarond.  Thorûr had been one of the first craftsmen to volunteer to move to the Glittering Caves when King Thorin gave permission for a group of dwarves to go and set up home under the lordship of Gimli.

He had travelled south over ten months ago without putting his theories over Dorbryn’s family’s view of his suitability as a husband to the test and it had been left to Gimli working on Dorbryn’s behalf to get Thorûr to work up sufficient courage to write and ask for permission to court and marry the daughter of Vonild. Much to Thorûr’s surprise Lady Vonild had welcomed his advances and had been pleased to gift her daughter in marriage to him, what was even more surprising was that neither Lady Vonild nor Lord Gloin had objected to their daughter moving south with her son at the time of her marriage.

Indeed they had not only agreed to her moving but had also agreed to accompany her south for the wedding an honour that signalled their approval of the match more than any other.

I was surprised to hear Lady Vonild had given permission for Dorbryn and her grandson to move away from Erebor and commented as much to Gimli. He had laughed and answered.

“Laddie, it took me the better part of the spring to get my mam to agree to it. You know her temper. She was dead set against any marriage never mind the move. But Dorbryn was determined and she has inherited a fair bit of mam’s temper herself so she declared she would marry with or without mam’s agreement. My father refused to take sides in the dispute, which left the pair of them going at it hammer and tongs day after day all through the winter months until I thought I would run mad. In the end it was Greirr who settled it. He said he wanted a new dad and that he liked Thorûr and that was that, mam never could deny the laddie anything. All that remained was for me after that was to persuade mam and dad to come south with us for the wedding and to give their blessings to the marriage in person.”

So here we all are, Gimli, Dorbryn, Vonild, Gloin, Greirr and myself all travelling to Aglarond to celebrate the nuptials of the daughter of Vonild.

Having seen how Lady Vonild has enjoyed herself so much in the last week or so I am beginning to suspect that her reluctance to agree to Dorbryn moving was all for show. Having lived much of her life in the underground world, Lady Vonild is relishing the opportunity to see Arda as it now is, free from evil and learning to adapt to new powers and welcoming new opportunities.  She is as inquisitive as Peregrin Took and as determined to see and experience as much as she can for herself.

I had feared how she would be when she met my father but they got on extremely well. Too well in fact for Ada soon had her telling him all about my visit last year to Erebor, something I would sooner he had lived in ignorance of for the next yeni or so. When we left Ada kissed Vonild’s hands and I swear she blushed. Really my Ada has far too much charm.

He and Gloin got on well also; talking of battles they had shared and traded links that have been arranged between the mountain and the wood. Dorbryn was a little shy at first but when my father presented her with a bolt of finest elven silk for her wedding she beamed in delight and was soon able to enjoy the hospitality offered as easily as her parents and Gimli. Greirr was a favourite with everyone for elves love children of any race and his uncle said he was in danger of becoming spoiled so much attention was showered on him. Even my father presented him with a beautiful belt knife before we left and a warning to listen to the good sense of his uncle rather than allow himself to be led astray by the likes of me!

Behind me I hear the first sounds of someone stirring and I know it will not be long before we are on the road again. Our journey so far has been a pleasant one, there is so much to see and talk about as we travel and each evening after we set up our camp and eat our meal we exchange stories and tales with each other.

It was Greirr who began this tradition on our first evening on the road, asking to hear about mine and Gimli’s time with the ring bearer and now each night one of us is called upon to tell a story and entertain the others before we take our rest. I do not mind too much for it fills the long evenings often with laughter and song and so far nothing too embarrassing has been spoken of, I hope that is a situation that continues all the way to Aglarond, although I doubt my good fortune will last that long, it rarely does!

 

 

 

xxxx

 

 

 

Our week in Eryn Lasgalen has been so pleasant, I feared Mam would change her mind and decide to remain with King Thranduil instead of following us on to Aglarond to attend the wedding of my sister.  I admit I did worry over Lady Vonild meeting the Lord of Eryn Lasgalen.  She is not one to disguise her feelings and her thinking on the Elvenking has been long known to me and to anyone else who would listen to her.  Still given that she has taken such a shine to Legolas, she has realized perhaps that the king couldn’t be all bad to have raised such a son. 

My mother can adore with as much passion as she can despise and she has come to love my elfling as if he were part of her own brood.  I find this rather amusing considering her cold welcome when first I brought him with me back to Erebor.  She did not try to hide her disdain for Thranduil’s spawn, but changed her mind soon enough.  The fact that he was willing to risk his neck to win her favour by returning the Great Axe to its proper place, made quite an impression on her.  This was done at considerable cost to himself as well, for he found sitting to be rather a challenge for the remainder of our stay after that stunt.  Of course I was the one who had to suffer near ostracism from my own mother for daring to wallop her sweet champion.  She spent the rest of that visit petting and spoiling the lad in an outrageous fashion and so has remained that tradition on his subsequent visits under the mountain.  He knows he has very little to fear from me as long as Lady Vonild is around; a fact he has been known to take advantage of from time to time. 

 Her devotion to him is what made it possible for her to be open minded when it came to meeting the King.  She claimed to be willing to at least try to get along with him, but as it turned out she discovered that Legolas didn’t get his winning personality from thin air.  My mother was soon under the king’s spell as well, to the point where they were soon fast friends telling tales and laughing together on a regular basis.

My elfling’s face was a picture when Mother tried to impress the king with the tale of his son’s heroic return of Barazantathul.  Clearly she wanted to make sure Lord Thranduil heard all the exciting details of his child’s brave and selfless act that would make him a legend to Durin’s folk for centuries to come.  She threw me another furious glare when she came to the bit about my too-rough treatment of her darling, causing Legolas to hide his face in his hands and the king to throw his head back and roar with laughter.  She did not see the humour in this and did not hesitate to thoroughly scold the king for his callous laughter while she reached out to pat Legolas comfortingly on the arm.  It did not take him long to win his way back into her good graces, though, for he apologized prettily and refilled her wineglass and soon all was peaceful again.

Lord Gloin and Lady Dorbryn were also charmed by the hospitality of the elves of the wood, especially when the king himself presented Dorbryn with a bolt of beautiful elven silk for her wedding outfit.  I imagine when it is done up by the fine dwarven seamstresses that have already taken up residence there, it will be quite a work of art in the end.  This gift seemed to bring Dorbryn out of her shell and she was able to set aside her wedding jitters and enjoy the rest of her stay.  Of course Greirr had no such reservations and could be found at any given time tramping through the corridors or the gardens or following random elves through the stronghold, asking question after nosy question.  Everyone took this in good part, for Elves love children just as the dwarves do, and they have not had a little one in their midst for some years.  In fact the king tells me that his own son is by far the youngest elf to remain on Arda and it has been some time since he qualified as a young child, though he is not quite considered to be an adult yet either.  I had never before considered how his life must have been with the only other youngsters around being mortals who would all manage to outpace him in terms of maturity at some point.  No wonder he finds his youth to be so vexing. 

That aside, he has managed to become a sort of hero to my young nephew, often waking up to find the dwarfling curled up next to him in bed.  This elicited profuse apologies from Dorbryn, though Legolas assured her that he did not mind in the least.  Of course this was nothing next to the embarrassment of her son climbing into the king’s lap at first meal and gravely removing the circlet of mithril and silver leaves from his head for closer inspection, taking with it several long golden stands of hair.  Dorbryn nearly melted through the floor in mortification, but the king only chuckled and put the circlet on Greirr’s head and allowed him to wear it for the rest of the meal.   

Parting was not easy, for mother and Dorbryn especially, realized they would not likely be back. But who knows?  The king and his household will always be welcome at the Glittering Caves, so it may not be a final goodbye at all.  We left with that thought in mind so we were all smiles as we departed.  Greirr especially so, because he had just discovered that Legolas would be travelling with us and besides King Thranduil had presented him with an elegantly carved elven knife as we were leaving. He had stared wide eyed for a moment or two as he held the knife reverently in both hands and then threw himself at the king, wrapping his arms around the long slender legs.  Thranduil had knelt down and solemnly reminded Greirr about the importance of being careful with his use of the knife and then warning him not to let his wayward son lead him into mischief on our journey.  Greirr found this counsel to be rather hilarious, though I am not so sure Legolas appreciated it as much.  He said nothing, but just shook his head, embraced his father for a long moment, then we were on our way.

Our first days of travel have been enjoyable with so much to see and to talk about. Greirr of course has been full of questions, many of them about our time with the Ring Bearer.  We have promised that when we stop for the evening we will begin telling him the tales of our adventure together.  There are certainly many stories to be told, and some that probably should not be, but whatever happens, I am certain it will be entertaining at the very least.

 

 

 

 


	2. Imladris

 

It has been raining for much of today and while I find the rain refreshing it seems my travelling companions do not. They do not look able to appreciate the beauty of the rain shimmering on the leaves nor can they hear the rejoicing of the trees as they drink deeply of the clean water that soaks into the earth around their roots. They do not give thanks for the cleansing properties of the rain in their hair or on their faces. Rather they huddle under the covering of the carts or hide beneath their hoods as the ponies plod along the increasingly muddy path. I can find beauty in the raindrops that bejewel their beards that they cannot.

I perceive it will be necessary to find a camp site very soon so that they can dry themselves out beside a warm fire and we can then share another night of storytelling.

I twist round in the saddle and look back to where Gimli is taking his turn at driving one of the carts and signal that I am going to ride ahead. Of course he is not happy to let me go without calling me to his side and warning me to be careful. I would roll my eyes at such over protectiveness save that I know he means well, so instead I assure him I will take all possible care and canter off through the rain.

About half a league ahead I spy a stand of trees that may afford us shelter and I turn Arod off the road and head towards them. I am happy to find a circle of holly and yew, which have grown so closely together that they form almost a living roof. If we pull up the two carts to form a screen and stretch a tarpaulin between the trees above our heads we will be quite cosy. Before riding back I take a short time to collect some dead wood and set up a fire pit. Not far off I can hear the sounds of a stream as well so we should have fresh water available. I also take the time to bring down two wild ducks, which I present to Lady Vonild with a flourish when I return to the carts.

She accepts them with a brief smile although she complains when I shake my head to free it of the attendant raindrops and manage to sprinkle her generously with the residue.

 “It is all very well for you to sit there on that beast of yours with water pouring down your face and still looking as pretty as a picture, instead of the drowned rat I feel like.” She scolds me, “You forget Dorbryn, Greirr and myself are not used to being out in the elements.”

I had not considered that of course.  Most dwarves never see the outside world or suffer from the vagaries of the weather and I am stricken by my lack of understanding and hurry to apologize.

“Oh stuff child,” Vonild answers with a smile, “why should you think of such a thing, you who loves to be outdoors whatever the weather, if what your da told me is true. Now tell me what did you find ahead of us, some shelter I hope?”

“Indeed less than a league away.”

Vonild’s smile broadens “Now that is more like it. Shelter and roast duck for supper. Lead on Thranduilion.” And she urges the ponies into a brisk trot and follows me down the road looking happier than she has since it first began to rain this morning.

 

While we have been travelling together for only a short period we have perfected our routine for setting up camp each of us having our own particular tasks to complete. In a very short time Arod and the ponies have been groomed and hobbled, a fire is burning merrily and with the tarpaulin offering proper shelter from the still steadily falling rain, everyone takes the opportunity to change into dry clothing as we wait for dinner to cook.

A hot meal always makes folk feel better and we sit in companionable silence for a while after we have cleared up the dishes. But it is not long before Greirr demands a story. Since it is my turn to respond I ask cautiously what it is it he would like to hear about, hoping he does not ask for anything too embarrassing.

He has obviously been thinking about this for some time for he immediately answers. “Grand da said that you and Uncle Gimli didn’t like each other very much when you met at the council. He said you made a really funny face when Uncle Gimli offered his axe to the ring bearer, like something unpleasant had just passed under your nose.” He grins first at me and then at Gimli who chuckles. “So I wondered when you first began to think Uncle Gimli was not as awful as you thought he was at the Council.” 

I am tempted to answer that I still think my friend is ‘awful’ but I have no desire to be taken to task by my guardian and he is already giving me one of his patented glares. I add a little more wood to the fire while I think over my reply. To my surprise I realize that despite my every effort to the contrary, I had already been forced to acknowledge that Gimli Gloinson deserved my respect even while we still remained in Rivendell, awaiting Elrond’s decision as to when the Fellowship could begin its journey south.

It is a salutary lesson to me that it took me almost until we reached Moria before I acknowledged that fact to anyone save myself!

 

 

Rivendell

It seemed like a lifetime since I had left Greenwood, and I was increasingly ill at ease despite the warm welcome I received from Lord Elrond on my arrival and the kindness shown to me by Lord Erestor.

I admit it was a better reception than I deserved given the news I brought with me about the escape of the creature Gollum but Gandalf seemed almost as if he had expected such dire intelligence and even Lord Elrond spoke more of the losses our warriors sustained than the disappearance of Gollum himself.

No, that is not what was wearing at my nerves rather it was the outcome of the Council that was held some days earlier.

I had not expected so many to be present. Not just elves from Lothlorien and the Havens, but also men and, more shockingly for me, dwarves. And not just any dwarves but those who infest the mountains of Erebor and who are the bane of my father’s existence.

Lord Elrond decreed all the races should be represented which made my unfortunate task of confessing the failure of the elves of Greenwood to keep the creature Gollum safe before my father’s enemies much harder.

How they gloated at my discomfiture.  One in particular, the son of Gloin, kept smirking and grinning as I explained what had occurred. He quieted when I spoke of the death of our warriors, mind I think that was only because one of the other dwarves spoke to him and placed a hand on his arm to restrain him from further taunting. It was good to know at least one dwarf has sufficient respect for the sacrifices the elves of the wood made. I wish it were he that had offered to join Frodo Baggins on the quest, but no it had to be the loathsome Gimli who proffered his axe and was accepted.

All of us who were chosen waited for word from the search parties that had been sent out from Imladris to hunt for the Ring Wraiths and Gandalf had asked that we spend time together, getting to know each other!

While I had the greatest respect for Mithrandir, in this I thought he had made a grave error.  There was nothing in this world or the next that would bring me to believe that I would ever be able to see ‘good’ in this creature of Aûle.

My hand itched to reach for my bow. How I would have loved to put an arrow between his dark hooded eyes, although finding a space beneath that hirsute covering of Naugrim facial hair would have been difficult even for one of my prowess.

To avoid confrontation I had taken to retreating into the gardens as often as I could so that I did not have to be in the presence of Gimli son of Gloin.

 

Given what happened during the quest and the incredible change in my opinions I am almost ashamed to face Gimli and his family for well do I know now how very wrong my thoughts were at that time.

I look across at my audience expecting to see their disgust and loathing but what I find is that the three adults are smiling sympathetically while Greirr seems willing to listen to more of my story before making a choice as to where his sympathies will lie.

“Here now lad,” Gimli pats my hand, “Your views were no more extreme than my own.  We were both sure of our own superiority and were certain that our view of our opponents was the correct one. It took us awhile to see beyond our racial prejudices, but we did it in the end. Aye and now I would dearly love to hear what it was you saw in me even then that made you rethink your view on me and mine, for I certainly don’t recall any occasion when you showed anything less than complete contempt for me. Here now,” he adds, “I am only funning lamb, those days are long behind us now, yet it interests me to hear of something I did that caused you to rethink your initial view of my kind.”

Still I hesitate to continue and it is left to Lord Gloin to add, “I always felt that if you and Gimli could only be brought to see beyond your inbuilt prejudice you would become the best of friends and prove to be a powerful force for good.” He smiles at us both, “I am glad to see my belief has been proved correct. So Legolas tell us what was it that first gave you an idea that my son was not so ‘awful’ as you first thought?”

Greirr laughs and cuddles up to his grandfather as everyone looks in my direction again. Seeing I have little choice I continue my story.

Sending Gimli an apologetic look I say ‘as I said ….’

XXXX

I had taken to avoiding the other members of the Fellowship, Aragorn who was my friend was gone out with his brothers, the Hobbits kept themselves to themselves and they had Bilbo to turn to if they had any concerns. Mithrandir, Gandalf that is was deep in discussions with Elrond and that left Boromir, Gimli and I and I had no desire to get to know either the man or the dwarf, especially the dwarf!

 

I escaped from the Last Homely House at last, having spent a morning being questioned by Erestor over my decision to offer my services to the Fellowship and whether my father would give his approval for my choice.

I did not like to lie to Lord Erestor but I had been forced to do so that day for I had not written to Adar to ask for permission, for I knew full well such permission was highly unlikely to be given. I could only hope that we would have left before the rest of the Mirkwood delegation reached home and gave the news to my parent. Else I am likely to be placed in a very embarrassing position, one I have every intention of avoiding if at all possible. So having been freed from my interrogation session I hurried out into the gardens intent on spending the rest of the day well away from elves, men, and dwarves.

I knew the grounds of the house very well from my many visits and so I was certain I could hide myself from any who wished to find me. I spent the first part of the afternoon safely ensconced in a particularly fine oak tree happily devising more and more outlandish plots and devices by which I could persuade Lord Elrond or Gandalf to change their minds over the inclusion of a dwarf in our party.

I let my mind wander freely and was surprised therefore when my sanctuary was invaded by the man from Gondor, Boromir, the son of Denethor. From my perch high above him I was virtually invisible and so felt I did not have to make my presence known to him, indeed I hoped he would soon continue on his walk or whatever it was he was doing and leave me in peace.

He was very agitated, slashing at the air with his sword, and muttering and growling. Something had clearly upset him; I am ashamed to say I listened in to his grumbling hearing him complain about ‘effete elves and uppity men, proclaiming themselves to be Gondor’s long lost king’.

My own temper flared and I considered dropping down to the ground at his feet and challenging him on his assumptions. However I knew that to do so would give away the fact that I had been listening into what was meant to be a private diatribe.  Such gross bad manners would scarcely place me in a good light, so I remained hidden.

I was glad I did so when a moment later I caught sight of Boromir’s expression and it became plain his anger was but a shield to hide his distress. He was a man alone in an alien land far from his family and likely suffering from homesickness if his feelings were anything like mine. With none present he thought he could call his friend I was not at all certain as to how to proceed, for my own knowledge of humans was scanty and based mainly on my acquaintance with Estel who could scarcely have been said to be a typical man.

While I sat there vacillating my ears picked up another sound, one I was beginning to recognize and loathe, the dwarf Gimli was coming towards my hiding place. Then he stopped and I saw him hesitate, step back and then wait and watch for awhile as he listened to Boromir’s words of despair as the man called softly for his brother and his good sense and diplomatic skills.

“It should have been you Faramir,” he lamented, “You have always loved the elves. Me I am like a square peg in a round hole, a bluff soldier, one who speaks first and thinks after. How I wish father had let you come in my place, I miss you so much my brother.”

I became aware that Gimli having overheard this had begun to move forward again, this time making a great deal more noise than before so that Boromir would hear his approach and have time to wipe away his tears.

“There ye are laddie” he called out as he came into the clearing, “I wondered where ye had gotten to, ye must not let yon elves get your dander up, they canna help themselves.  They see all mortal races as ‘children’ and to their eyes I suppose we are. It was not meant as an insult it’s just the way they talk. Don’t take it to heart.”

“I know my lore well enough Master dwarf,” Boromir responded “I need no instruction in my countries history and what do they know of the pain and loss that we in Gondor have suffered for so long, safe here as they are in their sanctuary.”

“Aye, it is hard to hear such things, and they are difficult creatures to fathom, but don’t be misled by their appearance. They are fierce enough fighters and have struggled against evil through many ages; it’s just that they always talk as if someone has shoved a broom up their rear ends.”

Boromir’s booming laughter rang out at that while I wished very much that I had my bow in my hand and I regretted very much that Boromir had not been taken by surprise at the arrival of the Naugrim and had run him through with his unsheathed sword before he realized who it was.

.

 

“I hoped ye would not mind a little company?” Gimli continued, settling himself on the bench next to the Gondorian.

If Boromir suspected that the dwarf knew more than he was saying he showed no sign of it. “I would welcome your company for I fear I will never be at ease among all these first born elves. Now my brother would love this place.”

“Ye have a brother, tell me about him?” The dwarf encouraged taking out his pipe, “We have a while yet before Gandalf wants to meet with us in the Hall of Fire.”

“I had forgotten about that,” Boromir admitted

“As have most everyone I think,” Gimli laughed, “Certainly young Brandybuck and that imp Peregrin Took had done so, they are off somewhere searching for mushrooms and now Frodo and Sam are searching for them in turn. Where that pestilential princeling is I do not know, I am happy to say I have not seen him since sun up.”

The dwarf drew on his pipe and then sent smoke spiralling up into the branches of the oak tree I was hidden in, so that I had to clamp a hand over my mouth to prevent my coughing and giving away my hiding place.

Below me the dwarf was continuing to speak “And even if I had you can be very sure I would not be reminding him of our meeting. It would do him the world of good to be taken down a peg or two and if he turns up late or not at all I hope I am there when Gandalf gives him a proper dressing down.” He clapped his hands together in anticipation and I swore to myself he would never be given such an opportunity to see me embarrassed or in trouble with my elders!

XXXX

“Of course I was wrong about that!” I laugh a little sheepishly, and they laugh with me. “As I was about so many other things, including my initial opinion of Gimli. And while I told no one of it I was very impressed with the way you drew Boromir out and got him to talk of his home and family. I knew even then that it was done for no other reason than that of supporting someone in need of a little comfort. I wondered what it would be like to be counted the friend of Gimli son of Gloin and was more than a little jealous of your companionship when we set out from Imladris. Of course,” I add smiling at my friend, “I now know that any that are granted that friendship are blessed indeed. So, now you know when and how I first began to change my opinions of dwarves although it took me a great deal longer to admit to it.”

Gimli shakes his head, “I had forgotten about that day back in Rivendell. Poor Boromir, he was so lonely, so pressured. His father expected so much from him, aye and even more from his brother, I was glad to hear him laugh, although had I known you were sitting in that tree, elfling you would have been anything but laughing had I caught you listening in to what was a private conversation.”

“And I would have deserved it,” I agree and we both laugh.

“Well,” Lady Vonild looks up at the sky and smiles “Would you believe it, it has stopped raining, and its time we all went to our beds, for no doubt we will be on the road early tomorrow.”

Everyone begins to prepare for sleep while I walk to the edge of the camp and look up at the night sky where the stars are beginning to appear.

Gimli comes to stand at my side and I place my hand on his shoulder and we both send a silent prayer to the other side of the veil for Boromir and his father and hope they have both found peace and happiness.

I look down at my friend and know I have both while he is by my side.

 

 


	3. Lothlorien

 

 

Traveling continues to be pleasant. We have run into very few problems and the issues we have had are too trifling to bother mentioning; at least to most of our party.  After all what is a little rain and mud to those of us who have endured far worse?

 

 The expression on Greirr’s face was priceless when lightning had streaked across the sky, followed by a torrential downpour, which left us soaked to the skin and wading the ponies through rivulets of mud.  Of course he had never seen such a sight before and was quick to take refuge inside the covered cart hiding among the trunks there.  It was not long, though, until he could be seen peeking out at the outside world and then before his mother could stop him, jumping down from the cart where he is now splashing contentedly through the puddles.  I brush aside Dorbryn’s consternation, telling her that there is nothing that can harm him and he is just enjoying a new experience.  She sighs and gives in, allowing him to do as he will, though she herself keeps well under the canvas with her hood pulled firmly forward.  Being out in the elements is not something dwarven womenfolk are accustomed to.  My father has experienced such weather before, though he does not seem overly pleased to be trudging through the swampy path, and Mam looks very grim indeed. 

 

Legolas, of course, is not the least bit dismayed by the storm.  In fact he seems thrilled with this turn of events, laughingly riding up next to Lady Vonild and admonishing her to smile and be happy for the forest.  In spite of herself, she does smile reluctantly at his antics before shooing him away. He moves off and then turns to signal to me that he intends to ride ahead, no doubt to find shelter for the evening.  I crook my finger to signal him to come to my side, which he does not hesitate to do, though I can see that he is wearing an expression of long suffering patience. He knows what I will say, but I must say it anyway.

 

“Just because we have had no problems so far, does not mean ye should go off half-cocked, Lad.  Pay close heed that you do not find some sort of trouble,” I warn.

 

“Aye, Gimli I will,” he promises.

 

“And we are already wet so there is no great hurry. There is no need to be putting the beast through his paces and leaping every obstacle in sight.  The path could be slick, so take your time.  Better we would be out in the rain a little longer than to have you breaking your neck in an effort to find shelter.”

 

“I understand and I will be careful. There is nothing to worry about.”

 

“Anytime you are out of my sight, there is cause to worry,” I tell him, “and for Aûle’s sake, Child stay out of the treetops. There is lightning about.” 

 

“I will practice the utmost caution, I swear it!  Can I _please_ go now?”

 

I wave him off and then shake my head as he speeds away, his horse’s feet sending mud flying up to splatter my cloak and beard.

 

 I hear a great peal of laughter from my sister who hasn’t cracked a smile since it began raining early this morning.  The weather has had her on edge all day, so I wonder what has her giggling like a loon all of a sudden.  I turn to look at her, suspicious that she is laughing at me for some unfathomable reason.  She has an irritating habit of doing that from time to time and seeing her grinning face now I have an uncanny desire to yank her braids as I might have done when we were children.  But of course that would be undignified so instead I just ask her what she is guffawing about. 

 

“You of course!” she says confirming my suspicions, “You sound exactly like a clucking hen when you scold like that.”

 

Now that is an unkind comparison that I am quick to take issue with.

 

“I do not!” I argue, “And besides if ye knew yon elfling as I do, ye would appreciate my concerns, believe me.”

 

“That may be,” she concedes, “Still I think he is a very good sport to put up with your over-protective fussing without a word of complaint.”

 

I snort at that observation. Not a word of complaint she says?  Thinking on it, I suppose that is a true enough statement these days for seldom does he complain about my requests or warnings even when he does not always agree with me. We have our moments of course, but for the most part he no longer bothers to challenge me.  But she is right; he has been a good sport when it comes to what he considers to be my ‘unnecessary precautions.’ 

 

“I guess I have to agree with you on that account, Sister,” I say. “But believe me when I tell ye it has not always been so.”

 

“When did it come to be so?” she enquires, “I admit to being curious as to how this unlikely union came to be.  Close bond between elf and dwarf is unheard of, or was until now, and I know you did not start out with any love between you.  Did it begin when he came into your charge?”

 

I think about this for a long moment.  It seems almost like a lifetime ago since we were either constantly at each other’s throats or doing our best to pretend the other did not exist.  It took a lot of effort and energy on both our parts to keep up the constant barrage of contempt that we regularly inflicted on each other.

 

“No perhaps not then,” I finally tell her, “though things did begin to change at that time…”

 

 

Lothlorien

 

I regret to say that it was not until the elfling was placed in my care that I even bothered to pay him any heed at all, having already decided he was not worth my notice after our time together in Rivendell.  After the wizard fell in Moria and I was asked, very much to my surprise, to act as guardian to him and informed of his relative youth, I admittedly felt ashamed of my former treatment of him.  That information took the wind right out of the sails of my scornful attitude.  Granted he had behaved no better than I had, but he at least had childishness to blame his bad manners on.  I had nothing but my own damnable pride, so I was determined to make a change and set about implementing that change right away.  It was not easy of course, considering he was about as prickly as a briar patch and had a dragon sized chip on his shoulder to boot.  The whole blamed situation had my head spinning, let me tell you. 

 

By the time we had made our way southeast to Lothlorien, I had learned a thing or two about my charge.  I had discovered that Legolas was a study in contradictions: a formidable warrior with invaluable skills, loyal to a fault and unswervingly kind to our companions. Yet he was also careless as to his own safety, thinking he was invincible and that he had none of the physical needs that we mortals had.  Plus he was proud and hot headed, when it came to interacting with me, especially if I were to require something from him.   He did not relish having been saddled with a dwarven minder, though we had both agreed to the arrangement in the beginning.

 

He had learned some things about me as well, one being that I took my oaths very seriously and another that my patience was not endless and that he would have to answer for blatant disobedience in a fashion that he was more familiar with than he would have liked to admit.  It was the day after I had proved that to him at the base of a rock cliff that we came upon the Golden Wood, so he was seemingly subdued when we arrived. I thought things might settle down between us, but I was soon disappointed to find that it was not to be.

 

I was careful so as not to impose myself too much on the lad our first days there, for I could understand his dismay at finding himself in the predicament he was now facing. After all, I had not done anything to endear myself to him, so to expect him to appreciate hearing from me seemed a little too much to ask.  As far as I could, I tried to see things from his point of view, and for the time being it seemed best to stay out of the picture as far as I could without becoming negligent of my obligations.  So while I stayed in the background as much as possible, I tried to remain diligent and pay attention to what he was about without being too obvious about it. 

 

 It was several days after our arrival at Caras Galadhon and our memorable meeting with Lady Galadriel that I began to see that I was going to have to speak up about something, possibly ending the relative peace between us.  The elfling was of course eager to see Lothlorien since it was a place he had only heard tales about up to that time.  I could understand that, but his enthusiasm was such that it seemed to me he never slowed down to take a breath, let alone bother to sleep or any such ordinary thing as that.  I was concerned about this, but unsure as to whether it would be best to speak up or let things slide a little longer and it was somewhere around our sixth day there that I finally felt the need to step in. 

 

We had just finished a late evening meal in the great oval-shaped hall that surrounds the trunk of a golden mallorn tree when I overheard a conversation between Aragorn and Legolas.  The elfling had been invited to join a patrol that planned to leave in an hour and he had already decided that he would be leaving with them.  Now there was nothing wrong with that in itself, except that as I said earlier, the child had no concept of his own personal need for such commonplace things as rest, which was why we were here in the first place, to recover from the time we had already spent on the road. In our short time together, that had already been an issue and truthfully it has been a constant struggle up to and including now, though he is less likely to challenge me on it these days as it rarely changes the outcome.  That day, though, I was loath to say anything, yet I felt it my duty to do so considering my new role in his life.  I admit to having trepidations for I knew he would not like my interfering with his plans, but that did not stop me from doing what I felt had to be done. 

 

I forbid the idea of his leaving with the patrol, pointing out that he should take advantage of our time here to recuperate, before we moved on.  Aragorn nodded in agreement with me, but Legolas, as expected, was as furious as a wet cat.

 

“How dare you presume to tell me anything, Dwarf!” he snarled, leaping to his feet. “You have no knowledge of my needs, and besides this was meant to be a private conversation!”

 

My first instinct was to shake him until his teeth rattled, but I knew it was important to portray a calm but firm exterior. I had figured out that much in our time together.

 

“That may be so,” I told with more composure than I felt, “but I have heard it, and I say you would be better in your bed tonight. You will be staying here.” 

 

His only answer was a stream of expletives, accompanied by a fierce scowl and a gesture I had never seen before, though it was easy to figure out the meaning. Then he turned swiftly on his heel and fled from our sight, obviously, I thought, to do as he had planned and join the patrol.   Aragorn frowned and rose to go after him, but I laid a hand on his arm to stop him.  There was no use chasing the lad, for he would not be caught if he did not want to be and making a scene would do us no favors.  The patrol would have to return sometime, and there would be time enough to discuss things then and to be honest I felt I needed the time to figure out what we could do to resolve the bitterness that he was still carrying toward me.  

 

I spent a restless night thinking over the events of the day and came to the conclusion that I could not live with the animosity between us any longer.  I was determined to find a way to fix things and hoped when the patrol returned we would be able to come to some kind of truce.  I had no idea how to make this happen and that is what I was thinking about as I walked about the City of Trees the next day at sun up.  I was returning to the grouping of flets set aside for visitors when I heard raised voices from somewhere above me. 

 

That was Strider’s voice and he was obviously giving someone a serious dressing down.  I wondered who had managed to raise his ire in such a way and was about to turn away and leave him to it, when I heard the softer tones of the elf.  So he had not left with the Lothlorien   patrol after all!  In spite of my anxiety about using the rope ladder, I climbed it to investigate for myself what had happened. I felt I had the right to know, since I had been given charge of the lad’s welfare.  As I came closer to the flet, I could hear what was being said very clearly.  Aragorn was in the middle of soundly scolding the elfling for his earlier treatment of me. 

 

“I am appalled at your behaviour, Thranduilion!  You have sworn on your honour to heed Master Gimli, and yet you have been treating him like dirt beneath your feet.  You should be thoroughly ashamed.”

 

I could not hear the reply to that, only that it was soft and contrite, which I found surprising and touching. You might think I was happy at hearing the child receive such a tongue lashing on my behalf, but I was not.  It would not give him reason to think better of me for one thing, plus he truly was in an awkward situation.  He was away from home, without leave in the first place which was perhaps a childish error in judgement on his part. However it had been allowed by folks who knew the score and now he was being expected to accept orders from someone who he had a mere fortnight ago considered to be a rival.  In between there we had lost a comrade to the depths of Moria and he had found he had landed in the charge of someone with a heavy hand and a deep sense of duty.  It was a lot to ask that he also have a good attitude about it.  Aragorn had not considered those things evidently, for he was beginning to make threats.

 

“Someone needs to teach you some manners, Elfling, and I am just about in the right mood to do it.”

 

It knew it was time I stepped in.  I announced my presence by clearing my throat and stepping into the fray. The first thing I noticed was that the elfling had clearly just woken up and managed to dress before he had been accosted. His hair was still loose and his eyes still heavy with sleep.  Not the most pleasant way to start the day I imagined, and it was really unfair too when I thought of it, for he had obeyed me after all, never mind that he hadn’t done so gracefully.  I am not certain which of them was more surprised when I spoke my views.

 

“Let him be, Ranger for he has done nothing wrong I asked him to stay and he has done so,” I said.

 

“That he has, but with an unacceptable show of disrespect to you along with mouthful of foul language and an unbecoming attitude.”  Aragorn heatedly pointed out.

 

“I understand your point and yet I would remind you that you have placed him in my charge.  We would appreciate your letting us work things out on our own, wouldn’t we Laddie?”  Legolas blinked twice, narrowed his eyes and blinked again, clearly dumbfounded by my unexpected support. It took a long moment before he managed an almost imperceptible nod of agreement.  Aragorn merely inclined his head to me and left, leaving me alone with my charge.  

 

 “Finish getting ready, Lad, and then join me for first meal.” I said and left him to finish preparing for the day.  It was only a matter of minutes before he joined me and we had a pleasant meal together, though we were both slightly ill at ease.  Neither of us mentioned the day before nor the events of the morning until we were about to depart from the table.  He then looked shyly up at me and thanked me for rescuing him from Aragorn’s wrath.

 

“T’was nothing, Laddie,” I brushed his words aside with a sweep of my hand. “I expect we will figure out how to rub along together rather nicely before it is finished, and we do not need a mediator to help us manage it.  I understand that it must be difficult for you to take direction from the likes of me and I appreciate your compliance.” 

 

“I could do no less, having given my word,” he said, then dropped his gaze and continued, “I could do no less, _literally_ without breaking my oath.  I was unaccountably nasty to you and I cannot think of a soul in my household, including my father, who would have found my behavior toward you yesterday acceptable.  I can only apologize and hope you will give me a chance to show you that I can improve.” 

 

“Indeed I will,” I assured him, taking a chance and patting his hand, “ shall we start over from the beginning then?”

 

“I would like that,” he said, “and thank you again for your patience.”

 

“Do not thank me too soon, Laddie,” I said with mock fierceness, “for now that you have shown that you can be civil, I will expect more from you in that department.  Your days of such displays of temper are over for good unless you wish to find yourself with a close up view of the ground.  Is that clear, Elfling?”

 

“It is very clear, Master Gimli,” he said without a hint of irritation as we rose to take our leave.  “You have been more generous than I deserve already.  I truly am sorry…”

 

I raised a hand to stop his words. “One thing for ye to remember, Lad” I counselled, “when an issue is over between us that is the end of it.  There is no need to keep rehashing it. You have apologized and I have accepted and we both know what to expect in the future.  It is over and done with.  Do ye understand me?”

 

“Aye, and it is a very sensible arrangement,” he agreed with me, and I could detect a note of relief in his voice. 

 

“Very good!” I said as we climbed down a steep flight of stairs back to the safety of the ground.  “Now perhaps you might tell me what you know of this place?  Ye must have heard numerous tales in the past and discovered many things over these last few days.”

 

We spent that day and many days after exploring the Golden Wood together, often with him telling me the stories he had heard from the time his family had dwelt there. We also discussed the quest: our successes so far, our failures and fears, our hopes for the future.  We talked of our homes and families. The things we missed.  Our homesickness for our people.  We were soon cautious allies and then firm friends, so that by the time we left the realm of the Golden Wood our companions no longer recognized us as the same quarrelling pair. 

 

“And so you lived happily ever after,” Dorbryn says clapping her hands together, “what a lovely story!”

 

“Something like that,” I chuckle.  I do not tell her that it was not all rainbows and sunshine from that point on.  It was less than a week after I had saved him from Aragorn’s fury that he managed to slip off and join another patrol without my knowledge, thinking I could not forbid something that I knew nothing about.  I left him with little doubt about how I felt about elflings who were economical with the truth.  He was howling and _guaranteeing_ better conduct by the time I allowed him from my lap. By then I was comfortable enough with our friendship to take him in my arms and whisper soft assurances until he could gain control of himself and we ended that day amicably in spite of everything.  I tell my sister none of this however, for some things are better kept between the two of us.  I am drawn back to the present when Legolas reappears from his scouting, much to my sister’s delight.

 

“There he is now,” Dorbryn says, “do you think he has found shelter?”

 

“Ye can count on it,” I assure her. “He would not be back if it were otherwise. Likely he has found supper as well.” 

 

I am proven right when he offers Mam two wild ducks, handing them over with a flourish and then shaking his head and showering her with raindrops.  She scolds him very mildly, but relents with a smile when she sees he is truly remorseful.  Dorbryn and I exchange looks and laugh.  Who would have believed things would have turned out this way, the son of Thranduil and Urhild’s daughter riding side by side in the rain.  You can never be sure you have seen everything until you are buried.   

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. The Anduin

 

Finally our caravan turns from the Carrock and takes the path of the River Anduin. This river no longer the slow meandering waterway we have been travelling by for the last few days becomes more akin to the tumultuous raging river that I recall all too clearly from our days of the Quest when we left Lothlorien to travel to the Falls of Rauros.

The last few days of our journey have been pleasant indeed, a warm sun, light breezes, and a comfortable pathway alongside the river which has offered us plenty of fresh food for our evening meals. Lord Gloin I have discovered is a master fisherman, or dwarf I suppose I should more rightly call him.

Whatever his nomenclature, he is very much a master of his craft.  While I could spend an hour or more waiting for a fish to spear or shoot, he casts his line and fish appear to leap upon his hooks. Tonight we are going to be treated to trout wrapped in leaves and cooked in the ashes of the fire and wild onions also baked amongst the ashes and of course as has become the norm we will spend the evening sharing stories.

It is my turn to tell a story tonight although I cannot recall whose turn it is to request a story but I hope whoever it is does not ask for anything too awkward.

My hopes for this are dashed when Dorbryn, who has been ill at ease all the while we have been travelling by the river, claims it is her turn tonight for a story request.

“Is it true that Gimli travelled for many leagues by boat?” she demands

“Indeed it is true; the Lady Galadriel gifted the Fellowship with three boats to carry us swiftly along the river from Lothlorien to the boundaries of Gondor. Elven craft are light, and swift and almost unsinkable.”

I exchange a smile with Gimli but say nothing more waiting for a proper request for a story.

“Dwarves do not do well in water” Vonild announces, and I have to agree with her on that score, dwarves indeed do not do well in water, or anything other than their own two feet or so it seems to me. Yet still I feel the need to point out that her son not only travelled down the Anduin by elven boat but also came up the Pelargir on the Corsair ships to fight on the Pelennor Fields before the White City.

“That may be so,” Gimli’s fond naneth replies “It does not make it right, I am only grateful to Lord Aûle that he was spared from a fate that any dwarf fears … drowning.”

“Indeed,” I return this time avoiding looking in Gimli’s direction completely “That is a fate none of us would wish upon any but our worst enemy.”

“So nothing exciting happened when you were on the River Anduin?” Greirr sighs as he turns his dark eyes towards me obviously disappointed by the thought.

 

I shrug and turn away from him, not wanting him to see my face as I answer. “Far more happened on the river bank than on the river itself. Much of our time travelling downstream was filled with nothing more than long hours of boredom.” I respond not untruthfully.

“Yet I sense a story” Lord Gloin puts in, “Something happened on that journey on the river that made my son do something that few dwarves ever do, learn to swim. I would hear more of it.”

 

I close my eyes and ears off to this plea, for I have no intention of making any further comment on it, yet even as I try to put the image that Lord Gloin’s words conjure up the memory of that day on the river surfaces in my mind.

I would very much like to be able to delete this picture, but the elven gift for total recall has its downside, I cannot forget that day much as I wish to …

 

*Anduin*

 

I knew that Gimli was uncomfortable with the mode of transport offered to us in Lothlorien but I had no idea as to why that was the case. Of course since it was the Lady Galadriel who had gifted us with the boats Gimli would sooner have shaved off his beard than confess that he hated the idea of floating in a teacup down the Anduin river.

We had three of the Galadhrim craft. Aragorn was charged with piloting the first, his passengers being Frodo and Samwise, neither of which wanted to be separated one from the other.

Boromir was in charge of the second, and his own especial charges Merry and Pippin were with him, and frankly when we set out from Caras Galadhon I was happy to know I would not have to put up with their incessant chatter on our journey down river. Indeed I pitied the son of Denethor, although Boromir seemed to have found a real friendship with Pip and Merry that was as beneficial to him as it was them.

For my part the fact that I was partnered with Gimli seemed no great imposition.  We had come to a greater understanding while staying in Lothlorien and I was happy to think that my days on the river would be spent in the company of Gimli son of Gloin.

I had no idea then that the actuality of travelling on water was such an anathema to him.  Had I even suspected the truth I would have been far more careful and maybe the accident would not have occurred.

As it was we were coming to the end of our second full day on the river when Aragorn indicated that I should take our craft forward to find a suitable campsite. It was a simple matter to do so, for there were only the two of us in the boat, and the fact that I was an elf meant the boat moved more swiftly and with greater ease than those piloted by the two men.

So, it made good sense for me to paddle more intensely and travel downstream beyond the gaze of Aragorn and Boromir and I had no fear of our ability to care for ourselves should we meet with any of the enemy.

As it was it was not Saruman’s forces who almost caused such trouble but a mere accident.

We had spied a possible campsite and I had angled the boat into the shelter of a shallow bay. Unthinking I leapt out of the craft to scout the area accustomed as I had been to elves being as agile as I I gave no thought to Gimli being able to emulate my actions. Of course poor Gimli was not as quick as I or as light on his feet and when he attempted to exit the boat he only managed to push it out from its moorings so that he was left adrift in the middle of the river. A river, where the current was increasingly strong.

Gimli grabbed hold of the paddle and began to attempt to manoeuvre the craft back to land only to catch a crab as the saying goes. He pitched head first from the boat into the river.  For me it would only have taken a moment to haul myself back but Gimli was wearing full armour and of course although I did not know it at the time, he could not swim.

I laughed when I thought he was going to suffer a ducking, but soon realized that far from spluttering and laboriously clambering back into the boat there was no sign of my friend. I threw aside my bow and quiver and dove into the water, striking out for the position where I last saw him, then dipped beneath the surface, searching the riverbed.

It took me two dives before I found Gimli and it took all of my strength to lift him and pull him to the surface. Once we had both dragged in some blessed air, I towed him to the river bank then, leaving him to stagger to land, swam back to retrieve our boat.

Even now my heart quails at the memory of that short moment. So many things may have gone awry, the ultimate success of the Quest and the survival of Middle Earth itself, but perhaps more importantly to me at least I might have lost the greatest friend I have ever known. That thought does not bear thinking of, for I know how much my life has been enriched by Gimli son of Gloin. Yes, I may occasionally wish he did not have such a hard hand, or such an entrenched view of right and wrong, but deep down I know and rejoice in the fact that he is my friend and guardian. So, although Lord Gloin wishes to hear more of why his son learnt to swim, I have no desire to tell him for I do not wish to relive that terrible day on the river. I look over to where Gimli sits and inclining my head to him I say to Gloin

“There is nothing more to be said I assure you.”

I can see that Lord Gloin is unconvinced but I do not care for I do not want to share my terror of that day, nor do I wish to subject Gimli to a retelling of it.

I get to my feet, announcing it is time for me to walk the boundary of the camp and make my escape before anyone else can ask further questions of me …

As I walk away I hear Gimli say

“I told you once before that the laddie had saved my life at least twice while we were on the Quest … well while he may not want to speak of it I am happy to tell you …”

 

I hurry to step even beyond the edges of my hearing. There are some tales I do not want to hear again no matter what the circumstances.

 

 

 


	5. The Plains

How peaceful this journey has been. It is still difficult for me to fathom that sleeping in the wilderness is now a fairly safe pursuit. Mother and Father are both already snoring raucously, and Dorbryn sits next to her son, whispering something meant for his ears only. I find myself smiling as she drops a light kiss on his forehead, takes his hand and begins to hum softly.  Contentment fills my heart as I realize now, that there is no need to startle at every rustle of the trees, or to inspect every noise that is not immediately recognizable.

 

 Of course it is always wise to have someone on watch, even with this relative safety and tonight I will to be the one taking it.  As is typical, Legolas has managed to take all watches over the last three nights, and now maintains that he will do so again tonight.  I wonder how many times we have had this discussion in our time together?

 

“I am perfectly capable of taking the watch another night, Gimli,” he insists sitting down next to me on the fallen tree I have chosen as a good spot to keep my sentinel.

 

“As am I, Laddie,” I reply, “Ye have done your share and more. I will not have ye entering my home looking exhausted and uncared for.”

 

 He rolls his eyes, but quickly changes tactics and his eyes become as big as saucers.  He is skilled in the use of many weapons, not the least of which is his world famous doe eyes. He proceeds to use them on me now. 

 

“I began this trip well rested and it is so peaceful here that there is hardly anything to watch for.  Go on and sleep, Elvellon. Let me do this for you.”

 

I pat his knee and smile in an admittedly doting fashion. It is difficult to refuse his offer especially since it is accompanied by a smile meant to charm me into compliance. Yet I know if I do not remain firm, he will fall over from exhaustion before admitting to such mundane needs as sleep.

 

“I appreciate the thought, Child, but the answer is still no.  Go to bed.”

 

A slight frown appears to mar his features.  “I am not even tired, you stubborn dwarf,” he argues, “I am no mortal in need of constant sleep. You are the one who needs to go to bed. ”

 

In the past such insolence might have made me bristle in anger, but I now know that it is his unfailing kindness, that causes him to speak in such a seemingly arrogant way.  I laugh out loud and put an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a one armed embrace. 

 

“I am certain ye do not wish to be reminded of how I feel about cheeky elflings!” I retort, “I suggest you take yourself off at once before you find yourself facing an uncomfortable discussion and then still going to bed while I take the watch.  Wouldn’t it be rather easier to skip the first step and go on now?”

 

He frowns further, but then thinks for a long moment about what I have said.  He releases a sigh and shrugs his shoulders in defeat.

 

“Perhaps you are right.  I do think it might be better to skip that bit and retire for the evening straight away.”

 

“There’s a good Lad! I knew you would see it my way if you thought it through.”  I give his shoulder a squeeze.  “Sleep well, Lamb.”

 

He again rolls his eyes, but chuckles softly before leaning down to kiss my cheek and then rising to leave.

 

“Goodnight Elvellon,” he says shaking his head, but continuing to smile.  I turn to watch him walking slowly back to the fire and see that my sister is watching us.  She has witnessed my interaction with my elfling.  She catches my eye and grins knowingly and I feel myself blushing at having been caught in such an open display of affection.  Such things seem so natural now that I sometimes do them without thinking.  I blush further as I am reminded of an earlier time when such doings were unheard of and yet I somehow managed to reveal my true feelings in an embarrassing slip of decorum.  It seems like a small thing now, but at the time I wondered if I had ruined the strides we had made in our relationship by showing myself to be too familiar.  I had been keeping my newly awakened fondness for the elfling, under wraps. 

 

 

The Plains

 

 

 

Of course in the beginning this was not an issue.  I wanted nothing to do with the pointy-eared princeling who seemed to me to be constantly looking down his nose at me.  I was more than happy to avoid contact with him back then, but had a change of heart after we lost Gandalf in Moria and Aragorn informed me of Legolas’ extreme youth and asked me to act as guardian to the lad.  I took this duty very seriously as I would any other important assignment, but it was not until we spent some time getting acquainted in Lothlorien that I began to have feelings for him that had little to do with obligation.  I had developed a genuine affection for him, though at the time I was hesitant to let him know.  After all we had already made great efforts to appear scornful of one another, and though we were no longer hostile and had become cautious friends, it was not easy breeching that wall of disdain we had built.

 

It was during the fateful orc raid at Parth Galen, that I realized my true feelings for the lad.  We fought and slaughtered many orcs in the woods that day, and I found I had to struggle to force myself not to try to shield the child.  He was a formidable warrior and had proven so many times, yet my feelings for him had become such that I had to continually remind myself of that fact.  It knew it was ludicrous yet I could hardly help myself. Logically I knew that he could take care of himself.  We were better working individually to destroy as many of the enemy as possible, but it took every bit of self-control I had, to stop myself from pushing him behind me. 

 

I did not have much time to ponder over this though for as soon as we had slaughtered the last of the orcs in the woods, we heard the horn of Boromir and arrived to find Aragorn bent weeping over our fallen comrade.  After that everything had moved so quickly there was no time to think.

 

Hastily we tended our fallen friend and after figuring out that Frodo had purposely slipped away from us, Aragorn decided that we would follow the orcs who had taken Merry and Pippin captive. Taking only enough time to divest ourselves of unnecessary gear, and searching for spent arrows, we were off and running.  And running. The pace tested even my endurance.  We seldom stopped to rest and when we did, it was only when we could not run another step. Day or night, it did not matter. We stopped when we could not go on and then only for the minimum amount of time it took to be able to move forward once more.

 

 Legolas always insisted on taking the watch during our short resting periods and Aragorn and I were hardly in a position to debate this. The endurance of the dwarves is legendary, but my elfling’s stamina seemed almost supernatural to me at the time. Of course, I knew it was not and after I don’t know how many days of chasing across the plains, I realized that he could not continue on at this pace forever without resting no matter how resilient he was.  On our next stop I took the briefest possible respite and then made my way over to relieve Legolas from his guard.

 

On first glance the plains appear to be a flat sea of grass that incessantly blows in ever-changing directions.  But if one takes the time to look he would see that the land is really riddled with little crests and valleys, rolling hills and jagged peaks.  It was upon one of these raised crags that I found him standing at attention, keen eyes scanning the vast expanse, hair and cloak whipping wildly in the ceaseless wind.  He turned swiftly toward me as I approached and then his face relaxed upon recognizing who was coming upon him.  It was then that I noticed the blood soaked sleeve.  He was injured.  I was both puzzled and alarmed. How could this have happened without us being aware? 

 

“What has happened?” I demanded.

 

“Nothing at all,” he claimed, “it has been very quiet.”

 

“Do not try to deceive me, Elf.  I can see you have been injured.”

 

“I assure you I have not,” he insisted. It was plain as day that he was genuinely puzzled at my saying this. “What makes you think I have?” 

 

I lifted his arm and turned it to show him the growing bloodstain and his eyes grew round in surprise.  He turned his arm to find where the blood was spilling from and then laughed as he realized what had happened.  I failed to see anything humorous about the situation and said so, so he hurried to explain. 

 

“I am not injured,” he explained, “my hands have just become chafed and have cracked open. It is nothing really.”

 

I took his wrist and pulled it toward me, turning the palm up for inspection and had to swallow a cry of dismay.  The condition of his hands was appalling.  Blisters and deep fissures disfigured the soft flesh of both palms. Blood had leaked from an especially angry looking crack and had run up his arm and drenched his sleeve without his having noticed it.  I stood staring in shocked silence, unable to understand how this had happened without me noticing.  Suddenly a great sadness swept over me.

 

It made no logical sense why the sight of those damaged hands affected me in such a way. After all I had fought by his side to destroy any number of dark creatures.  I had seen him spattered in gore from slain enemies, had seen him unhesitatingly remove heads from necks, had seen him rip arrows out of corpses before wiping the black blood away and returning them to his quiver.  He was no stranger to warfare and though I found it unsettling to think of one who was considered so young among his people as having to be involved in such carnage, I knew it was just a symptom of the dark times we lived in.  I accepted it as a fact that could not be changed.  So why was I so undone by such a comparatively small thing? 

 

Perhaps it was his lighthearted laughter when he had explained to me what had happened.  Under ordinary circumstances this would have been a serious matter. Any normal parent seeing his child’s hands in such a condition, would have been in a state of panic and dragged him off to a healer right away.  Were he at home, no doubt they would have been carefully cleaned and salved and lovingly wrapped. Likely he would have been ordered not to use them until they had properly healed.  But we were not in normal circumstances.  Out here such a thing was just a nuisance, a trifling matter hardly worth mentioning.   Legolas’ casual attitude was almost more than I could bear.  My throat seemed to have closed up and I had to swallow several times before I was able to speak properly.

 

“This is terrible, Lad.  Ye must let me help ye wrap them.”  I choked out, but he only waved away my concern.

 

“It is nothing Gimli.  Truly it is fine,” he tried to reassure me. But I was already walking back for my pack.

 

 I returned with my own water skin and some strips of fabric that had been hastily torn from a spare shirt. I held each hand in turn, carefully pouring cool water over them and cleaning away the blood and grime before wrapping them in the crude bandages.  As I finished tying off the last bandage I was greatly relieved.  I knew that with this protection from the elements and his rapid healing ability, things would be put to right in no time.

 

 Perhaps it was this relief that made me do what I did next. Or perhaps tending him in such a way reminded me of taking care of my young nephew and the times he had come to me with a splinter or a bruised knee.  I will never know what came over me and I am not sure which of us was more surprised by my action.  After I had finished with my ministrations I lifted one hand and- without thinking- kissed the bandaged palm. 

 

As soon as my lips touched the fabric, I realized my mistake.  I had given much effort to carefully hiding my growing fondness for the elfling and now the cat was out of the bag so to speak.  I felt my face flame.  How could I have done such a thing?  In that moment I was certain I had permanently ruined any headway we had made in our often-troubled relationship.  He would never be able to accept such treatment from me. Uncertain as to what to do, I continued to look down at the hand I was still holding.  A sharp intake of breath told me he was surprised as well and likely offended or even angry.  To be honest I was a bit afraid to look up to find out, but no one was going to call me a coward, even in the face of such humiliation.  I slowly looked up into his face and when I did his expression was not what I had expected.  He looked thoughtful-perhaps a little amused-but there was no sign of dismay whatsoever. 

 

“Thank you for your care, Master Gimli,” he said, smiling sincerely. “I am certain all will be well now.”  He chuckled softly and continued, “It has been some time since anyone has kissed my hurts to make them better.”

 

My face heated again at having been shown to be a softhearted, sentimental creature rather than the harsh and dangerous warrior I meant to portray to others.  How could I have slipped up in such a spectacular fashion?  Still, I could not help smiling though a bit ruefully.  I might as well accept the fact that it was too late to change anything.  The lad had my number from that moment on and of course he has used this knowledge to twist me around his finger many times since. As he turned to walk away, leaving me to take over the watch, I could not stop myself from calling out to him.

 

“Legolas!”

 

“Yes?” He turned back to look at me once again

 

“Did it help at all?”

 

His laughter broke free for real then, and I was quick to join him. He turned his hands over and over as if contemplating my question.

 

“I believe it did, Elvellon.  They feel better already.”

 

I laugh again now as I remember that event which I now see as he beginning of what would eventually become the easy camaraderie that we share today.  I rifle through my pack, pull out my pipe and a light a little leaf inhaling the fragrant smoke with deep satisfaction. I may not be getting any sleep this night, but what could be more pleasant than sitting here under the stars, knowing these woods are now safe and watching over the sleep of those that I care for the most?  It is a great pleasure to be here with my family.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Meduseld

 

Lord Gloin and I walk along together beside the first of the two carts carrying Dorbryn to her new home, it is late in the afternoon, and we will likely be stopping to camp for the night very soon. The warmth of the day and the peacefulness of our present surroundings have led me to discard my tunic which is slung over the back of Arod as he plods along behind us. He is also carrying Lord Gloin’s leather jerkin and helm both of which are hanging from the pommel of the saddle.

Lord Gloin has been telling me of the journey he made with Gandalf and his time in Mirkwood. It is an interesting experience to hear such a tale from the ‘other side’ and I have had to bite my tongue a time of two to prevent myself from attempting to contradict him.

The lead cart bounces through a particularly deep rut in the road and sends a spray of fine dust towards the pair of us, causing me to sneeze, and Lord Gloin to cough.

“I would sell my best battle axe for a tankard of good dwarfish ale.” Gloin grumbles. “That is something I have really missed since we set out on our journey.”

Knowing the love the dwarves have for their malted beer I grin and tell him that the Rohirrim make very fine ales.

“No doubt they do, but they cannot compare with that made by the brewers of Erebor.” Gloin informs me a trifle sourly. “Most beer made by men is weak and tasteless.”

“Although it did not stop you drinking plenty of it when we stopped in Lake Town,” Vonild joins in our conversation from her place on the driver’s seat. “I seem to recall you and Gimli spending a deal of time ‘trying’ out the different brews, leaving Dorbryn and I to complete the preparations for this journey alone.”

Gloin winks at me, and mutters too softly for Vonild to hear, “Shopping, I never knew a female who didn’t enjoy spending money when the occasion arises.” He raises his voice again calling to Vonild and Dorbryn that we are going to walk by the river for awhile to see if we can find some herbs to liven up that rabbit stew you are planning on cooking tonight.

We stand to one side as the first of the two carts rumble past us Gloin continuing our conversation on ‘good ale’.  “And while I am sure you mean well lad, I doubt me that any Rohirrim ale will be as good as you seem to think it. You are no beer drinker after all.”

I admit I am not, I would sooner drink wine or water than the ale that men and dwarves seem to like so much.

“I may not like beer, but I have tasted the Rohirrim brew,” I reply, “for when we celebrated the defeat of Saruman at Helms Deep there was naught else to drink to the glorious dead with.”

A somewhat wicked smile comes to my lips as I recall that night and I add, “And Gimli certainly found that brew strong enough.”

I can see I have whetted Lord Gloin’s appetite for he raises one of his eyebrows and says “Oh?”

I glance up as the second cart reaches us Gimli and Dorbryn seem to be deep in conversation … Gloin looks up also and then waits until they are ahead of before urging me to tell all. “For I will find out sooner or later one way or the other you know.”

I hesitate, for I have no desire to unleash the wrath of my guardian upon my person for ‘telling tales out of school’ and I cannot think he will be happy to have this particular story told, especially to his father.

 

“I promise I won’t speak of it to Gimli” Gloin promises, “just what happened at this celebration of yours, and how does it concern my son?”

How I wish I had kept quiet now, but that imp of mischief that so often leads me into trouble, would not be silenced and it is a story worthy of telling.

“There was a competition” I begin, and already Gloin is chuckling in anticipation.

 

Meduseld

The room I was sharing with Gimli and Aragorn was far enough away from the Great Hall that even to my ears the sounds of the celebratory feast scarcely registered. Our bedchamber was small, but clean and the bed was comfortable, which to those of us who had been sleeping on the hard ground for much of the last few months was a welcome change.

Its comfort was doubly welcome for me at that time as I was sorely in need of it. I should have accompanied Aragorn and Gimli to the feast but I begged off, although I had promised I would attend after the meal is finished with. I could not eat just then, and I had no desire for anyone to see me with my eyes still red from crying.

Ai, but Gimli has a hard hand, especially when he has been frightened as I had managed to do earlier that day. It was not a deliberate attempt on my part, indeed had I known how he would react I would have made sure I waited until he was otherwise engaged before doing what I did.  I still maintain, however that I was never in any danger and that Gimli over reacted.  He usually does when it comes to me; he is no elf after all!

Aragorn might have been a little more supportive however, for he does know my capabilities and could have at least attempted to convince the dwarf that I was in no danger. All he said when I complained of his lack of support was that he was not about to step in between my guardian and myself. He muttered something about once bitten, twice shy and I should recall Lothlorien. I was rather too busy trying to persuade Gimli that I fully understood his concerns and that there was not the least need for him to reinforce them by belabouring my backside with his hand to do that at the time, although I had recollected the occasion later. Needless to say I was unsuccessful in my attempt to prevent Gimli from carrying out his lesson, which is why I was still in our bedchamber rather than enjoying the festivities in the Great hall.

And all this merely because I lent a hand to some of the Rohirrim who were attempting to treat the injuries of the horses of riders who were killed in the charge at Helm’s Deep. The steeds of the Rohan warriors are very protective and do not take well to being handled by anyone other than their own riders. Had it been anyone other than me, and Aragorn who were gifted with Arod and Hasufel by Eomer on the plains, they would not have allowed themselves to have been mounted let alone ridden until their new rider had spent some time acquainting themselves with each other’s idiosyncrasies.

But elves have a way with most good beasts and I was happy to help calm the horses and lead them into the stables where their injuries could be treated and they could be groomed and properly cared for.

One particular stallion was causing great difficulty and the men had almost decided that he would have to be let go free for he was biting, kicking and lashing out at any who came near him. But the family of the dead rider have little left to them of their father and husband and the grooms were reluctant to deprive them of this one source of income if they could just get the horse to calm sufficiently to be given aid for his own wounds.

That is where I came in, for while they were all standing off from the beast, I chose to enter the corral where he stood trembling, ears laid back and his teeth bared, and attempted to calm Glanduin.

I was told later that from the other side of the fence things looked far worse than they were, for I never felt in any real danger. I danced around Glanduin as he reared, bucked, and kicked all the while crooning softly to him. Even when he lunged directly at me doing his best to bite I was unfazed for I knew he would finally understand I meant him no harm and I was proved right for eventually he stood still, his head drooping and I was able to lay a hand on his side and then walk him into the stables.

Hardly had I closed the door on his stall and received the thanks of the grooms and riders than I found myself being confronted by a far scarier beast than Glanduin this one being an irate and terrified dwarf!

He seemed unsure over what he wished to do first hug me or wallop me, but since I knew from his expression that one was likely to follow very shortly on the other I hurried inside away from prying eyes and ears.

It was as well that I did so for Gimli was in no mood for apologies and promises of taking more care of myself. I fear I did myself few favours when I argued with him that I had not placed myself in needless danger. For as soon as Aragorn had taken himself off, I found myself in that most humiliating of positions, head down and bottom up over the dwarf’s knee, while Gimli set about convincing me that I should take more care over my health and safety in the future.

That is why I found myself staring out of the window, listening to the revelry in the hall while rubbing my heated rump carefully with one hand to try and remove some of the residual sting left there by Gimli Gloinson.

I turned as the door opened and braced myself for trouble as Gimli appeared, but I should have known better than to fear further retributions for once my hirsute guardian has ‘dealt’ with me he does not usually return to the issue again. And that was true then as it has been before, for instead he encouraged me to come and join the others, “we are about to remember the dead, lad, and it would not do for you to be absent for that.”

While I would have preferred longer to recover, I followed Gimli into the crowded Golden Hall to listen to the King and to remember all those who had laid down their lives so far in this quest.

After the solemnities were over, most of those present turned to celebrating the fact that they still lived and that there has been a great victory over Saruman and his Uruk-hai. It was only a temporary respite of course and some that were gathered there would lose their lives in the upcoming battles. I hoped I would not lose anymore of my friends but knew that it is possible.

For the time being I put such sad thoughts aside and tried to enter into the spirit of the celebrations that were ongoing. Gimli was standing by a tapped barrel with Eomer. Both were drinking with apparent enjoyment. They gestured to me to join them, which I did, although the idea of drinking ale all evening held no pleasure for me.

When Eomer offered me a flagon of ale, Gimli tried to persuade me to not to drink it as he tells me it is very strong and not suitable for ‘the likes of me’.

I scowled at that, for I can carry my drink as well as anyone, certainly any of mortal kind. Elves have hard heads and can drink large quantities of alcohol and while young by the reckoning of the elves I am old enough to drink and have done so for several centuries.

Meanwhile Eomer and Gimli were continuing with their conversation laughing and boasting of their own prowess in downing ale and leading each other on to take part in a drinking game.

It was then that the idea came into my head, a chance to maybe get a little of my own back at Gimli, for my backside was still sore and he had already underestimated my abilities once that day. Perhaps it wasn’t a very adult way to respond but at the moment I did not care and so and to prove a point I said,

“So it is a drinking game?”

They were surprised but when they saw I was serious in taking part along with the others they made no further attempt to dissuade me. They obviously thought I would not be able to tolerate the ale and would soon drop out of their competition.

They are wrong; Eomer and Gamling have already given up, and stand watching as Gimli and I continued the game.

Long years at the court of my Adar meant that I was accustomed to drinking over long periods. I knew how to pace myself, how to look as if I was imbibing while actually taking little drink in. I also knew how to subvert the opposition into believing I am more affected by alcohol than I really was.

So, when I thought that Gimli was beginning to struggle I looked at my fingertips and announced that I thought it is beginning to affect me … It was not of course, but still it made the point I wished to make. Gimli took another tankard and drank it down, pronouncing that it is “the dwarves who go swimming, with little hairy women.”

The sort of inanity he would never pronounce if he were in full control of his capacity.

As he fell over backwards I could not resist a final strike at my guardian’s ego, “Game over.” I intoned and knew that I have made my point in Rohan.

 

Gloin laughs until the tears run down his face, “to think my son was bested by an elfling. This journey has been worth it for this story alone.” He chortles.

I am less than happy for Gimli and Lady Vonild are both looking at me censoriously for the two carts have pulled over into an opening beside the river and they have obviously been listening to my tale for some time.

I decide I will leave it to Lord Gloin to make some sort of explanation, and while some may consider it to be cowardly. I mount Arod and ride off into the woodland calling back over my shoulder that I will return for supper, and hopefully by then Gimli’s ire will be lessened and my rear end will be less at risk I certainly hope so.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	7. Minas Tirith, the Coronation

It is just past sundown, but we have already set up camp, cooked and eaten a meal of stewed goose with wild garlic and now have put water on to boil for more tea.  I tamp a twist of leaf into the bowl of my pipe and light it, drawing in the luxurious smoke and then slowly exhaling before I notice my mother giving me the hairy eyeball.  I have no idea what her problem is until she takes out her own pipe, and turns politely to Legolas.

 

“Will it bother you if I smoke, Child?  I believe I am down wind of you,” she states meaningfully.

 

“Of course I don’t mind, My Lady,” Legolas answers inclining his head toward her, “how _thoughtful_ of you to be concerned over my comfort.” 

 

For the first time I notice that the smoke from my pipe is blowing across Legolas causing him to cough, though it sounds put on if you ask me!  Still, to keep peace, I stand and gesture for him to trade me places so the smoke will blow away from him, and he smirks smugly at me as he walks past, whispering softly, “I told you she likes me best.”  I’d like to box his ears for him for that bit of impertinence, but I have no desire to raise Mam’s rather daunting temper.  Already she has informed me that I am much too hard on the lad even though I have done nothing to him during this journey other than a little light-hearted ribbing from time to time.

 

  There is no use pointing this out though, for she has a blind spot when it comes to her darling and will not stand for him to be spoken against, teased or rebuked in any way.  When we have been together with her in the past, this has led to me having to resort to whispering threats directly in his ear when he is being difficult and to him sticking to her side like glue when he has managed to land in my black books.  It is a bit maddening at times but well worth it now as I see her lean back and take in the faces around her.  She smiles with pride and satisfaction before reminding us that she will be requesting a story tonight.  Wanting to make the most of this opportunity, she thinks for a long while before making her request.  Finally she decides on something.

 

“You were both present for the crowning of Gondor’s king.  That must have been a grand sight with so many folks dressed in their finery swarming the city.  I would like to hear of your impressions of it.”

 

Legolas and I exchange glances and then cannot help breaking out into laughter, both of us remembering the ordeal we had to get through on that day.  At the time it had not seemed as funny as it does thinking about it now, for the consequences could have been disastrous.  Now, however it is perhaps one of our fondest memories of our time together.  A time we had worked together and accomplished a formidable task.  Everyone is looking at us curiously now, waiting to hear what we are finding so amusing. I lean back and astonish them by saying that if it weren’t for the elfling and myself there likely would have never been a coronation at all.  Of course everyone is clamoring to hear the tale now.  The only place to begin is at the beginning.

 

Minas Tirith

 

Finally the time had arrived.  For days the crowds had been teeming into the city, all coming to see Gondor’s King returned to the throne.  All morning I had spent preparing myself for this event and I will admit that I was feeling less than patient as I stood waiting outside Legolas’ bedchamber door waiting for him to come out so we could leave together.  Finally I had waited long enough, so I pounded on the door to hurry him along.  He emerged at last, dressed to the hilt, but scowling fiercely at me, though that did not bother me in the least.  I do not find it difficult to ignore elven glares so I remained unfazed. 

 

“It is less than an hour until the ceremony starts, Lad,” I growled, “Stop your primping and make haste!”

 

“I was not primping, Dwarf,” he informed me while looking in the mirror and smoothing down a few stray hairs, “warriors never primp!”

 

“Next time ye say that ye should look away from the glass first, ye prissy elf,” I chuckled causing the bold elven warrior to retaliate by sticking his tongue out at me and then side stepping the swat meant for his backside before exiting into the corridor.  I followed him out without delay, for time was getting on. 

 

 We had to hurry for we had promised Aragorn we would come by to see him before the big event and the time is getting short. As we approached his dressing chamber it became clear that much of the staff was pacing nervously about, obviously in an uproar over something.  When we got right up to the door we saw several standing just outside it trying to hear what was taking place inside. Legolas looked as worried as I felt, for we were afraid something had happened to our friend of course.  We forced our way through the crowd and in our concern didn’t even bother to knock before entering the King’s chamber where we found Aragorn accompanied by an uptight personal servant who flitted around him, wringing his hands in a dither and looking near ready to faint. We did not have to ask for an explanation for the man was desperate for help it seemed.  The ceremony was in less than an hour away, he told us, and the future King seemed to be under some sort of spell that prevented him from moving. Nothing he said had the least effect and he did not know what they would tell the crowds and couldn’t we do something and make it fast?  I assisted the poor man outside while assuring him that all would be well and sincerely hoping that I was telling the truth.   I closed the door firmly and turned toward our friend. 

 

Aragorn had not made any progress at all toward getting ready for the ceremony. In fact at the moment he looked much more a scruffy ranger than a future king in his wrinkled garb and worn boots.  He sat puffing intensely at his pipe, his head wreathed in smoke and a blank look in his eye.  Legolas shot me another worried glance and then stood in front of our friend, shaking his arm gently.

 

“Estel is something wrong?” he asked.

 

Aragorn blinked a few times then his eyes cleared as he recognized the elfling. 

 

“Not a thing,” he cheerfully replied.

 

“Then quit sitting there smoking like a chimney and get a move on.” He ordered, “It will not do for you to be late to your own coronation.  Time is running short.”  Legolas tried to assist him up by pulling him by the arm. 

 

“Oh that,” he replied yanking his arm back, “There is no need.  I have changed my mind.”

 

“Changed your mind?” I said incredulously, “Ye canna just change your mind, Lad.”

 

“I assure you I have, friend Gimli,” he confidently stated though his calm exterior was belied by a slight tremble of the pipe he held in his hand. “I do not understand what made me think I could go through with this, but I know now I cannot.  I know nothing about being a king. It was a ridiculous notion.” 

 

“Not as ridiculous as you changing your mind minutes before the ceremony!  What are ye thinking, Man? Folks have traveled from miles around to see you crowned today.  You should see the crowds outside…” I began, but stopped when Legolas laid a staying hand on my shoulder.  Looking at Aragorn I could see the reason for the elf’s concern.  The man had become nearly as white as a sheet and was beginning to sway slightly.  Legolas gently took the pipe away,  

 

“No one can make you do this, Estel,” Legolas looked at me for support, “there is no need to decide right now, but you should at least go ahead and bathe.”

 

“I told you, I have made up my mind. I am not cut out to be a king!”

 

“No one is asking you to, Lad, but the water is already drawn and there is no reason to waste it,” I pointed out, trying to follow the elfling’s lead.

 

“Gimli is right,” Legolas declared, “we are not asking anything of you other than something you have done thousands of times before.  You may not wish to be crowned, but we must not miss out on the fine wines that have been brought into the city and we’re not going to be seen with you in your current state.  Here we are in our finest raiment and you looking like something the cat dragged in and reeking of pipeweed to boot.  Now move!”

 

“Would you like to try to make me, Elfling?” Aragorn snarled, leaping to his feet.

 

Legolas looked at me, eyebrows raised in question.  I shrugged in reply.  If it came to that we were up to the challenge.

 

“Do ye truly think we cannot?”  I asked.

 

“Between us I think we would find the task quite easy, if you must have it that way, Estel,” Legolas said matter of factly,  “there would be very little you could do, if we put our minds to it and no retribution you could make either considering you are not King yet.”

 

“Very well!” Aragorn gave in though not too gracefully, “If you two insist on behaving like street thugs, I suppose I have no choice.”  He turned his eyes toward Legolas, “though I assure you, you would not have found if an _easy_ task.”

 

 I handed him a thick towel and the pair of black leggings and short white shirt that had been laid out for the occasion and he made his way into the bathing chamber.  He came out shortly, dressed only in the shirt and leggings, his wet hair wildly sticking out at all angles.  He picked up the worn boots he had been wearing earlier and began to put them on but Legolas quickly took them from him and replaced them with the new black ones.  Aragorn shrugged and donned them before pronouncing he was ready to go.

 

“You cannot go out dressed like that, Estel. It is positively indecent!”  Legolas said, handing him a long red under tunic, “put this on.”  Aragorn looked at it distastefully so Legolas took it from him, before rolling his eyes and yanking it over the man’s head and stuffing his arms into the sleeves.  I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing at this picture of the daunting warrior and future king being dressed like a truculent toddler. 

 

Legolas carefully adjusted the high soft velvet collar and turned the man around to straighten the tunic, which fell to just above his ankle in back He fastened the cuffs of the long red sleeves made of textured silk and embossed with black silk thread. Next he firmly shoved Aragorn into a chair and picked up a hairbrush that was on a nearby dressing table.

 

“If your hair dries like that it will look like a bird’s nest,” he said starting in on the tangled mass.  He glanced at me and then at the armor that was meant to be part of Aragorn’s coronation costume.  Taking his hint, I was quick to pick up the black leather greaves and buckle them above his ankle and knee and then attach the decorative metal piece with the Gondorian wing design to the foot of each boot.  Next came the leather rerebraces with matching metal pieces above each bicep.  I did this quickly and efficiently as possible so as not to cause alarm.

 

 I was unsure of how we were going to coax him into the chain mail, which had once belonged to Isildur himself and had been kept stored in a vault all these long years.  Someone had polished it until it gleamed for the occasion.  I picked it up admiring the fine workmanship.

 

“It would be a shame not to try it on, Laddie.  Some poor soul has worked his fingers to the bone polishing it and adjusting it to fit you.”

 

“Yes,” Legolas agreed with me, “I would see you in it at least.”

 

Aragorn frowned, but did not resist,  understanding that we would force him into it if we had to.  We helped him into it and then fastened on the breastplate and ornamental leather pauldrons.  The only thing left was the mantle.

 

Legolas draped it across the man’s shoulders.  The deep blue velvet fell in soft folds all the way to the floor.  The edges were trimmed with delicate silver embroidery and it was lined with golden metallic silk.  Legolas tied the silver cord at the neck and then we both stood back to admire the affect. 

 

In spite of his still pallid face, Aragorn looked stunning.  Regal.  Like someone destined to be the King of Men.  It could not be otherwise.  I admit to being a bit misty eyed at that moment and I had to clear my throat a time or two before I was able to speak. 

 

 “Ye’ll do, Laddie.  Now let’s go.” I said gruffly.

 

“Where are we going?” Aragorn asked, though by then I am certain he knew the score.  We would not let cold feet prevent our friend from fulfilling his destiny even if we had to carry him kicking and screaming all the way to the throne. 

 

Legolas stepped forward and grasped him by the shoulders, looking straight into the frightened eyes. 

 

“You are ready for this, Estel,” he said softly but firmly, “It is what you were born to do.”

 

“I am not so sure,” Aragorn said desperately, pulling the elf into a tight embrace. 

 

“Then trust your friends, Lad,” I said taking him by the arm and leading him to the dressing chamber door.  “And besides, we are only going for a walk.  Remember that. It is the easiest thing in the world to walk down a hallway.” 

 

Legolas took his other arm and as we walked down the long corridor, a contingent of guards fell in step with us.  Before long we were standing at the bottom of the steps that would lead outside to where the roaring crowd was waiting.  I gave his arm a final squeeze as Legolas put his arm around his shoulder and pointed up the long flight of stairs.

 

“All you must do is walk up those stairs, step outside and say a few words.  Mithrandir will do the rest.”

 

“And then we will all have a mug of wine to celebrate.  Ye will be able to see us right up front,” I assured him. 

 

Aragorn grasped us each by the hand for a moment, then took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.

 

“Thank you my friends,” he said, and then we had to hurry out in order to see his entrance.  The rest is another tale entirely.

 

Lady Vonild smiles and Lord Gloin nods in appreciation for a story well-told. 

 

“You had to _bully_ the King into getting crowned?”  Greirr wants to know. 

 

“Perhaps _persuade_ is a better word,” Legolas tells him.

 

“Either way, it worked,” I say triumphantly.  Had we not shown up when we did who knows what might have happened, right Elfling?”

 

 “You are right, Elvellon,” he says smiling in satisfaction,   “had we not come along, Gondor might still be without a king.”  He frowns slightly and then adds, “We are not given nearly enough credit for our role in history.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	8. Aglarond-The Wedding

It is late afternoon, or at least I believe it to be so it is difficult to tell here in the depths of the caverns that run deep beneath the mountains at Helm’s Deep.

When we came in sight of the newly repaired Deeping Wall some days ago, it was the culmination of a long trip south undertaken for one purpose only the wedding of Mistress Dorbryn although I was unaware of that fact when I agreed to join my friend on his travels. The journey had been a wonderful experience for all of us and an experience I would not have wanted to miss. I hum part of an old song that the Hobbit’s taught us when we were on the Quest it seems to very nicely sum up our experiences and how we have become even closer as a group as we shared stories with each other at each stop on the way.

**_‘Sit by the firelight’s glow, tell us an old tale we know, tell of adventures rich and rare, never to change ever to share, stories we tell will cast their spell, now and for always.’_ **

The stories we have traded have reminded me of how much I owe Gimli Gloinson, and how fortunate I am to have him as a friend and mentor. For a mercy Gimli says he feels the same way about our friendship. When I think back to those days after the Council I do not know whether to laugh or cry at our obstinate dislike of each other. Now all that inherited distrust of our respective races seems so ridiculous, we are far more alike than either of us could have imagined even if on the outside we are the antithesis of each other.

“Are you about ready lad?” Gimli calls from the next room and I answer that I am just about dressed.

I have to bend almost double to see my reflection in the polished copper mirror provided for my use, but I wish to make sure my appearance will do justice to the momentous occasion that is about to begin here deep in the Glittering Caves.

I am fortunate indeed to be attending the wedding of Dorbryn daughter of Vonild and Thorûr son of Magen (gold stone). I had not expected to be invited for I know that dwarven ceremonies such as this are considered intensely private affairs and outworlders are unwelcome. It had been my intention once Gloin, Vonild, Greirr, and Dorbryn were safely ensconced in Gimli’s new home to return to Edoras and await my friend’s return to the Golden Hall.

Lady Vonild was having none of that, as she made very plain when I first mentioned my plans. Gimli’s naneth is a formidable matron and not someone it is wise to cross, and I saw immediately as I began to make my plans known that she was very unhappy.

I tried to explain my reasons but Vonild was not about to listen to my ‘excuses’. I was expected to attend the nuptials and attend I would. I did not demur further for I have a great respect for Lady Vonild and her heavy right hand. Yet still I feared that when we reached Aglarond I would find myself excluded from the ceremony itself, for while Gloin’s family had accepted me, this was not the case for all of the dwarves who lived in Erebor or the new colony in the Glittering Caves. A marriage ceremony is made up of two families not just one and Gimli had already warned me that Master Magen was in every way a traditionalist I could not see him wishing to have an elf present at this most private and intimate of family occasions.

I was proved correct, Master Magen not only did not wish me to attend the wedding, he did not want me anywhere near the Glittering Caves at all. Gimli very speedily put paid to this thought. He was the Lord of Aglarond and he would say who was or who was not welcome in his domain, and I was very welcome and always would be. Yet he could not coerce Magen into accepting my presence at the wedding itself for both the bride and the groom’s families had equal say in who would attend.

Once again I offered to withdraw, I could spend the time with Erkenbrand and his family in the keep and still see Gimli and his family on a daily basis but Lady Vonild had ‘got her dander up’ by now as she called it and demanded a face to face meeting with Master Magen ‘to sort things out’. I was not present at that meeting but from what Gimli has told me there were enough fireworks going off to rival even one of Gandalf’s displays.

The culmination of the meeting was however that I was to be invited to attend the wedding, Lady Vonild making it plain that I was as much a part of her family as young Greirr and that if I were to be excluded she and Lord Gloin would return to Erebor taking their daughter with them. Master Magen never had a chance Gimli told me, for Vonild was very much on her mettle and used the same tactics she had utilized when facing King Thorin back under the mountain to batter Magen into submission, her final argument being that she had ‘adopted’ me as her foster son and therefore Magen could not refuse me admittance.

I was much struck by this declaration and gladly accepted this formal acceptance into Lord Gloin’s family although thinking it over later I began to wonder if I had been wise to do so. So far I have been able to play Gimli off against his Mam, now Vonild is officially named as my foster mother in dwarven society I suspect she will prove to be a much more formidable opponent to my scheming than her son has ever been.

Magen looked to his son for support, but just one glimpse of Dorbryn and all poor Thorûr wanted was to make his vows and take Dorbryn as his bride. So he was of little use to his father, I suspect Thorûr would have agreed to having a Balrog present as long as he and Dorbryn were able to plight their troth as planned.

And now the great occasion is upon us, I am decked out in my finest apparel and have attached my circlet to my head by winding my braids around it. It would not do for me to forget where I am and to knock it off as I follow Gimli and Lord Gloin into the great cavern where the male participants will gather before the ceremony.

Having subjected myself to the critical gaze of Gloin and Gimli I am passed as being acceptable to appear at the wedding and follow them meekly along the passageway.

They are both in their most formal clothing, warm russet reds to their velvet cloaks, burnished armour and intricately traced leather tunics, their beards, braids and hair is adorned with gold and precious stones making each of them glitter as they move, it is a wonderful sight. Lord Gloin carries a ceremonial silver axe by which he will sever the ties Dorbryn has to their house ere she is joined to Thorûr.  Gimli carries a cushion on which lie the mithril bonding bracelets which will replace the ties that held Thorûr and Dorbryn to their own family for he will take the main part of the ceremony as Lord of Aglarond, behind them comes Greirr as wide eyed and nervous as me for we are to stand as family to Dorbryn. I spare him a smile and he returns it and places his hand in mine as we follow Gimli and Gloin, I am uncertain at this stage which of us is the most comforted by this, him or me.

I know little of the actual form of the ceremony but I do not doubt it will be spectacular, elves bond by light of the stars, here beneath the earth dwarves use the sound of the stone beneath their feet to guide their footsteps to a new life together. I am uncertain as of yet how that works but Gimli tells me all will become plain as the ceremony goes on.

Certainly Dorbryn and Thorûr could not have a more spectacular setting for their hand fasting. The Glittering Caves are not like Erebor nor like Moria in its days as a great dwarven kingdom, here there is little sign of the intricate stone carvings or massive pillars that filled the Dwarrowdelf and held up the basalt roof.

The outer caverns will eventually be hewn into halls that echo those great kingdoms but the actual caves themselves will be left largely unchanged.

I had not appreciated how much dwarves and elves are alike when it comes to natural beauty, the dwarves would no more despoil such natural treasures as are found in these caverns than the elves would tear down their beloved trees.

The only difference between us is that we see beauty in sun and starlight while Gimli and his kind feel the beauty of rock and stone beneath the earth. The more I see of the dwarven kingdoms the more I see how beautiful they are and here in the caverns in the mountains of Helm’s Deep there is a wonder that any elf would cry out to see.

Crystals and gems fill the walls and roof of the inner caverns, cleverly placed torches and lamps enhance their beauty and reflect the colours and light back again into the centre of the cave system. Gimli has been appointed guardian of these wonders and I know with his love of such natural beauty he will prove to be a worthy carer.

For now I follow after Lord Gloin and enter one of the inner caves where the males are to meet before the wedding, already the deep thrumming of drums can be felt through the solid rock of the floor of the cave as many dwarves meet and begin to circle the groom and his father. Knowing I am here on sufferance only I attempt to keep well away from the centre of the floor where more and more dwarves are beginning to stamp and clap as they make increasingly more intricate patterns in the dance. But Gimli and Gloin will have none of it, dragging me forward to greet Thorûr and Magen before I am hauled off into the circle to stamp and dance with the others.

I notice that Thorûr is bound to his father by a golden cord which will be severed when he bonds to his wife to be. I hope whoever is going to wield the axe which separates him from his father will have a steady hand and a clear head; for I can see that many of those present have been imbibing on the excellent Rohan ale Eomer sent as a gift to the bride and groom. I trust there will be enough left for Lord Gloin to make an informed choice on how strong or otherwise Rohan beer is. One thing is for certain I do not intend to take part in another drinking contest!

At first hearing the music which is made mainly from drum beats seems dull and repetitive, but as I begin to listen more closely I hear the real rhythms appearing, they are as complex and difficult to understand as the dwarves themselves. But as we continue to thread our way through the patterns of the dance I finally hear the true sound of dwarven melody and while it is strange it is also beautiful, I have no difficulty in believing their music like our own came from the One. Their melodies echo the deep earth and its strength while ours follow the water and stars yet there is a similarity at their very heart one that draws you in and allows you to see and hear what Aûle wished for his own folk when he first brought them to life.

Just as I am beginning to enjoy myself there is a blast on a horn and the circles of the dance part and I am once again tugged towards the centre of the cave and line up with the rest of my family to lead Thorûr through to the next cavern where his bride awaits him. I assume that the female dwarves have performed similar dances in their own separate hall, for it is their custom to keep males and females apart until the actual bonding ceremony begins. As the drums lead us into the central cavern which is alight with lanterns and torches which reflect the gem stones and minerals that fill the walls I hear the sounds of tabor and pipe coming from across the floor and I catch a first glimpse of the bride as she enters the cavern led by Vonild and her friends.

Dorbryn looks beautiful, her gown is of deep gold, the bodice made from the silk my Adar gave her, her hair and beard are strung with diamonds, and mithril she looks radiant. There is no doubt she is happy in her choice of husband and Thorûr looks as if he cannot believe his good fortune. As the pair meets in the centre of the cavern we all form circles around them, with family closest to the bridal pair. The actual ceremony is brief; the cord that holds them to their family is cut, fortunately without any injury to either party. Then the bride and groom swears fealty to the other, and they exchange tokens, not golden rings as is usual for the elves, but beautifully engraved bracelets which they clasp on each other’s left wrists to show they are now as one.

I recognise the craftsmanship in the bracelet that Dorbryn presents to Thorûr and know that Gimli must have made it for her for he has wonderful skill in such matters.

Gimli utters a few words, which are echoed by both families and I manage to get through my part in it without shaming either myself of Gimli. Then a great shout goes up from the whole assembly, the music begins again and this time bride and groom pair off to dance, followed by each of the family members.  I am relieved to find that my partner is Lady Vonild. Whether this is by chance or by design I neither know nor care. At least with my foster mother I need have no fear of making a fool of myself for she leads me unerringly through the intricacies of the wedding dance and then following the bride and groom we all make our way to another hall where the feast awaits. As I sink down into my allotted place I breathe a sigh of relief that all has gone well, and think myself fortunate indeed to have witnessed such a wonderful ceremony here among my dwarven family.

 

 

Xxxx

 

 

The spread for the wedding feast rivals the one that had been laid out for the King and Queen of Gondor’s wedding.  The food and drink is just as plentiful and just as artfully displayed, never mind that neither my sister nor her new husband are royalty.  This has been a wedding befitting royalty even though the bride is just the widow of a poor miner killed in an accident and the very distant relative of the King, and the groom an ordinary jeweller.  Still Queen Arwen herself could not have asked for more at her own wedding feast and I am more than proud to be hosting such an event for my beloved sister.  I’m doubly satisfied when I see Mam, with her grandson in her lap, smiling fondly as Legolas refills her mug with amber ale, leaving just the exact right layer of thick foam as I have shown him.   As always she is impressed with his desire to please her, and tells him again how delighted she is that he has accepted our family’s invitation to attend the wedding.  I have to laugh at that.  As if he had any choice in the matter!  Truth be told, he had never expected or intended to attend the wedding at all. 

 

In our time together, we have both learned a great deal about the customs of each other’s cultures, so he knew that Dwarfish weddings were private affairs and that he would not likely be welcome to be included.  In fact he had thought to return to Edoras and await my return there, knowing full well that prejudice still thrived in some of the residents of Aglarond and Erebor as well.  He explained that he had no desire to cause any fuss that might put a damper on Dorbyn’s day.  I felt we must set a precedent, though, and told him under no circumstances was he to stay anywhere but with me in the caves.  All in residence would have to get used to his presence whatever their feelings about it, for I would not live in a place where my elfling was not welcomed and being Lord there had its side benefits.

 I could not, however, say for certain whether or not he would be able to attend the ceremony itself for that was a private matter between the families of the bride and groom and I knew the groom’s father held closely with tradition.  Of course the bride’s family already agreed that he would be welcomed.  In fact Mam became quite incensed when she overheard us speaking of it and told us both to quickly get any ideas that he would not be there out of our heads.   Legolas had no choice to agree with her when she told him she would be highly offended if he continued listing his objections and excuses.  When he looked to me for support I had nothing to offer. I wished him to be there as much as my mother did, but I did not hold out any false hope that it would be an easy matter to settle with Master Magen.  Neither was I willing to cross Lady Vonild when she was on a tear.  We would just have to wait and see.

As it turned out my fears were justified.  Magen did not want Legolas near the Glittering Caves, let alone at the wedding of his eldest son. I was quick to set him straight on the former, reminding him promptly of who was Lord of this realm, but I could not convince him to allow the elfling to attend the wedding, even though he was aware that Dorbryn wished him to be there.  When I informed Legolas of my dilemma, he again tried to withdraw, no doubt uncomfortable with all the fuss being made on his account.  For his sake I had decided to let the matter rest, even though my own ire was raised considerably.  As badly as I wished him to be there, I did not desire to make his life a misery by pushing the issue further and drawing even more unwanted attention to him.

  Mam, however, did not see it that way. She was fit to be tied when she heard the news and gave me an earful for letting ‘that old stick-in-the-mud” get by with his outdated ideas.  Legolas and I exchanged amused looks at that. It had not been overlong ago when she would have toasted Master Magen and his views on elves, but those days were long behind her now.  She was not about to let her favorite new family member be so insulted.  She demanded a meeting with Master Magen and his family. 

Magen, Thorûr and his brother, along with Dorbryn, Lady Vonild, Lord Gloin and myself were to be there.  Mother insisted  that Legolas had a right to be there also as the meeting was concerning him.  I held my breath hoping she would change her mind, for I knew I would never have the heart to force him to be there even if Mam insisted on it, and crossing Lady Vonild in her agitated state was not something I wished to do. I needn’t have worried, however, for when she saw his horrified expression, she relented and suggested he keep Greirr company in our absence which he was quick to agree to in his relief.

The meeting itself was very quick to become heated.  Master Magen barely had said a greeting before he began voicing his views.   He had rights where his son’s wedding was concerned, and he was not going to have thousands of years of tradition thrown to the wind just because my mother had taken a freak and decided to change things. 

“Just because you have some maggot in your head, Vonild, does not mean I have to accept some scrawny-necked, empty-headed, spawn of the woods that you have taken on as a pet at my son’s wedding!  It is not proper, I tell you!” 

I leapt to my feet, ready to make Magen pay for his vulgar insults to my mother and to my elfling, but hesitated when I caught sight of Dorbryn who was near tears at this turn of events.  All she wanted was a quiet wedding and now her dreams were fading before her eyes it seemed.  Besides, Lady Vonild did not give me a chance for before I could manage to say anything she had already begun her response.

“Not proper?  Not proper you say?” her voice was deadly calm, “I’ll tell you what is not proper, Magen.  What is not proper is you insulting the Lord of your own realm right before his very face!”

Magen looked stunned and blanched at her words.  Turning to me he said,

“I meant no offence, My Lord.”  Again Mam gave me no chance to reply.

“You meant no offence,” she spat, “and yet you have grossly insulted one whom Lord Gimli holds dear as a son, one who has fought at his side and even saved his very life.  You say you meant no offence and yet your speech is very offensive indeed.”

Magen looked uncertain for a moment, but soon rallied.  Traditions were important he claimed and he would not have his son’s wedding become a spectacle.

“It is the way things have always been done!” he maintained, “Just because the lot of you have decided to break with all the customs that our ancestors held dear does not mean our family must follow.  I will not have an outworlder present at my son’s wedding, no matter how cozy the bride’s family have become with him!”

 

“It will be difficult indeed for you to have a wedding at all without a bride!” my mother said, further raising the bar.

Dorbryn looked at me in a panic as Mam proceeded to explain that should Legolas be excluded from the ceremony, then she also would not be present and neither would her daughter.  Thorûr gave one despairing glance at my sister and then tried to insert himself into the fight, saying he would wed her no matter who attended the ceremony, but Mater Magen had his pride and even my mother’s threat of cancelling the betrothal did not deter his stubbornness.  However, Lady Vonild is not only the queen of obduracy, but she is clever as well.  She had another trick up her sleeve.

“Master Magen,” she began, “the laws say that each family is entitled to have any kin present in private affairs such a funeral rites or weddings. Blood kin or sworn it matters not. Do you deny this?”

“Of course I do not deny it,” Magen frowned suspiciously, “but that stripling is no relative of yours, and even you cannot adopt an elf!”

“Are you certain of that, sir? Show me where it is written that I cannot,” she dared him, “ for I assure you I can and I have.  You cannot deny me the right to having my own sworn kin at our family’s private celebrations, no matter your personal feelings for him.”  She glared at him, crossing her arms triumphantly.

Magen looked completely flummoxed at this turn of events for he knew the truth of her claim.  Nowhere was it written that she could not take an elf as sworn kin.  Our forbears never considered the fact that anyone would want to do such a thing so nothing had been written about it.  He sputtered, raised his hand as if to speak then put it down again and frowned in confusion.  In a last ditch effort he turned to Thorûr for support.  He found none there for Thorûr claimed that he would take Dorbryn to Eryn Lasgalen and marry her with every wood elf in residence there in attendance if it meant he could wed my sister.  He had taken so long to get the courage to ask her that he would not see it end over something so trivial as the guest list.

Between Lady Vonild’s strength of mind and Thorûr’s quiet determination, Magen knew he was beat.  He gave in, if not gracefully, then with little energy left for animosity.  He congratulated my mother on being a formidable opponent and a shrewd deliberator. Dorbryn and Thorûr exchanged relieved glances, as the meeting broke up and I took off to inform Legolas of the outcome for I knew he would be anxious to know.

I found him with Greirr who was enjoying his favorite game of asking hundreds of questions in rapid succession; this time it mostly consisted of him asking the Sindarin word for various things.  The dwarfling had a plan that he would be able to talk in front of all the folks in his new home here in Aglarond without anyone knowing what he was saying, a sort of secret language if you will, so he was dedicating plenty of time to learning new vocabulary.  From outside the door I listened as he ticked off the words he wanted to know and Legolas answered with the Sindarin counterpart.  To my surprise he boldly mentioned a very vulgar word that he should not have known in any language.  Perhaps I should have intervened, but morbid curiosity kept me listening at the door instead.  There was a long pause before Legolas spoke again.

“That is not a very nice word, Greirr.  Why ever would you want to say it?”

“Because, it is a very satisfying thing to say when you are cross,” he patiently explained, “and I am not allowed to say it in a language folks understand.”

Legolas laughed at this very logical argument, and I had to bite my lip to keep from joining him.

“Very well,” Legolas chuckled again, “I will tell you, but you must never say it in front of your uncle for he has picked up quite a smattering of Sindarin….and he would definitely know that particular word…  I can tell you he would not like it at all…plus he would certainly figure out where you learned it.  So forget it, I’ve changed my mind. I cannot tell you.”

I was pleased to hear him think that through to a proper conclusion.  Greirr, however, did not appreciate it quite so much.

“Hey!  No fair!” He protested. “You already agreed and there are no backs forever!”

“In most cases, I would say you are right,” Legolas admitted, “but this time I feel it is safer for both of us if you would just choose a different word.”  

I cringed and closed my eyes.  The poor elfling didn’t know what he had set himself up for.

“All right,” Greirr said brightly, “how about…” He proceeded to pop off half a dozen equally shocking words that he would have liked to learn while Legolas, in a panic, tried to stanch the digressing flow.

“Ai!  Greirr, please, you mustn’t say that…those are not the sort of words I meant…that’s enough now!  Greirr STOP!”

The dwarfling’s voice became suddenly muffled so I knew Legolas had resorted to placing his hand over the child’s mouth in an attempt to stop the flood.  This was when I chose to make my presence known by stepping into the room, causing Greirr to fall silent and Legolas to flush and then sigh in frustration.

“Gimli, I swear I did not encourage him,” he began.

“Never mind, Lad, I understand,” I said raising my hand to stop his explanation, while training a severe glance at Greirr, “my nephew is perfectly capable of finding mischief all by himself without any encouragement at all.  Still I would warn you to be extra diligent that you do not lead him into trouble, especially now that Lady Vonild has decided to join you officially to her clan.  She will not abide foul language from either of you.”

Greirr’s eyes grew round in awe at my saying this, for he knew what it meant.  Officially welcoming new kin was not something done lightly by any dwarven family, and my fastidious mother took even seemingly insignificant decisions very seriously indeed.  For her to take such a step was quite a proclamation of her deep love and respect for my elfling.  Legolas was clearly touched and quite happy to be joined officially to our clan, though of course I have long considered him family without any formality.  I explained that this meant the groom’s kin could not prevent him from attending the wedding ceremony, and while he was eager to be there, he was still unsure.  He was not keen to draw too much attention and felt he would be very conspicuous among the other guests, but of course begging off at that point was not an option. 

The next several days were divided between finalizing plans for the wedding feast, finishing the last details on the bonding bracelet I was making for Dorbryn to present to her groom, and briefing my elfling on what to expect at the wedding.  Every evening he insisted that I practice with him the Khuzdul words that he would have to repeat as part of the bride’s family, until he could say them nearly without accent.  In spite of all this preparation, by the actual wedding day he was almost as nervous as the groom.

Of course he needn’t have been.  The wedding went off without a hitch; the musicians were spot on, the families decorous and cordial, the groom beaming with pride and the bride radiant.  The dancing after the ceremony was joyful with any remaining bitterness between the families seemingly forgotten.  I of course was thrilled thinking that my sister and her family would be in residence here in the Glittering Caves. Now my new project was to convince my parents to make a permanent move here as well, which I hoped would be a fairly easy pursuit.  For now, though, I just wanted to enjoy the moment.

And that is precisely what I am doing as the wedding feast continues.  Wedding jitters behind her, Dorbryn glides from table to table, greeting guests and accepting their well wishes.  When she arrives at our table, she kisses our mother and father in turn on the cheek, beams at Legolas, and then thanks me profusely once again for hosting this event.  Next she turns to her young son and invites him to dance, whereupon he, to everyone’s amusement, bows deeply and solemnly to her and offers her his arm.  She in turn, curtsies to him and they walk majestically out to the dance floor.  The room breaks out in applause, and Greirr, playing to his audience, twirls his mother around and then waves grandly to the crowd.  Leave it to my nephew to bring the light relief to any situation. 

 

Legolas surprises me by taking the decorative decanter of ale that sits in the middle of the table and serving Lady Vonild, Lord Gloin and myself.  It is a custom among dwarven families for youngsters to serve ale or tea to their elders on formal occasions, but it is not something I would have expected him to know since I do not recall ever telling him about it.  Obviously he has either recalled it from his studies or has learned by observing other families.  Either way it is a lovely way to show his acceptance of his new role as adopted kin in our family, so I wink and nod in approval.  He smiles back at me and serves himself last, and I have to laugh when he fills his own mug with a little less than an inch of the gifted ale.  He may be able to hold his ale well enough, but evidently he would rather not if he can avoid it.

Still it is enough to raise in a toast to a successful wedding and to many years of happiness for Dorbryn and Thorûr.  I look at the faces around me and am filled with satisfaction. It has taken many years to understand, but I now realize that it is not blood that makes kin, but shared experiences, loyalty, and deep abiding love.  I lift my mug again and offer one final toast. 

“To Family.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this story and would like to read more like it, check out our group at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/TheLeaflingChronicles/
> 
> New members are always welcomed!


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